The Core of Power I: Bonded Souls
by SapphireDragon92
Summary: If you want to read this story, click on my profile and read "The Core of Power: Soul Connection" instead. It has longer chapters instead of these shorter ones and extra chapters too. A Harry/Ginny soul bond fic.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Prologue**

Harry Potter really hated his life. At the moment, he was squashed up in the backseat of his Uncle Vernon's car, alongside his pig of a cousin Dudley and a pile of luggage. Needless to say, it was not a hell of a lot of fun.

Any normal ten-year-old boy, you see, would be ecstatic to discover that because of a move; nearly half of a school year would be spent at home. _Dudley, _who couldn't do anything academic to save his life,was certainly happy about the fact that his parents, Petunia and Vernon Dursley, had decided to wait the half-year until their 'precious son' (Dudley) and 'the freak/boy' (Harry) started high school before enrolling them at a school (or 'worthless institution'). Harry, however, would have much preferred being at a 'worthless institution' than being stuck at home with the pig (Dudley), the giraffe (Petunia), and the hippo (Vernon).

Why was Harry living with his aunt and uncle, one might ask? Well, Harry was an orphan – an orphan who knew nothing about his parents other than their names (Lily and James Potter) and how long _he _had been with them (until he was one). His 'family' (more like owners) treated him like at worst, dirt, or at best, a servant – so from that Harry was able to gather one more thing about his parents, or more specifically, his mother – Petunia hadn't liked her sister very much.

Harry wasn't informed of much else either, or at least around the Dursleys. At school he knew lots, seeing as his teachers, or at least his _former_ teachers, were the only ones who had ever liked him. But here with the Dursleys, all Harry knew about the move was the _why_ and the _where_ – they were moving because Grunnings, the drill company where Uncle Vernon worked, had transferred him to the branch of Grunnings at Ottery St. Catchpole. Harry really wasn't looking forward to it – the one and only good thing about the move was the fact that the stairs at the new place didn't have a cupboard – Harry's bedroom at their old house in Little Whinging had been a cupboard under the stairs. At least he would have a bedroom.

Harry had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the fact that they were there until the car had already stopped. "Out, boy," Harry's uncle said roughly, pulling Harry out of the car by the scruff of his neck. Harry hurried into the new house with an armload of heavy luggage so as to try and escape more verbal punishment (and manhandling).

Harry struggled to sleep that night. He had been disappointed (though he knew better than to show it) to find that his new 'bedroom' was actually supposed to be a study, and was so small that it might as well have been a cupboard under the stairs. The house was a three-bedroom house – why couldn't he have the third bedroom? It wasn't _too _big, but it would certainly be better than this. Sighing, he turned over and tried again, in vain, to fall asleep on his flimsy single mattress.

"Up! Boy, get up!" was what Harry woke up to the next morning. His Aunt Petunia was calling him to get up and make the breakfast. At least she wasn't tapping on the door. _That_ was infuriating.

Mumbling incoherently to himself, Harry dressed quickly and, blinking sleep out of his eyes, hurried down the stairs to make breakfast.

Harry rushed out the door as soon as there was a break in his chores. Moving had upped the quantity of said inconveniences, and though he knew that he would be in for a beating (verbalized, of course – the Dursleys had never gone so far as to physically hit him) when he got back, slipping away for even an hour was worth it. Although, Harry realized as he broke into a run, he had nowhere to go. There was a weeping-tree at the park in Little Whinging, and that had been his sanctuary, but he would have to find a new place to call his now.

Soon, the jogging Harry found a lake that was incredibly calming and peaceful. The water's edge was lined with trees, and Harry thought that it would be good to find a tree like the weeping-tree in Surrey to make his sanctuary. Glancing around, his eyes probing the colourful thicket of trees in a contemplative search, he found the perfect tree!

But once he started rushing towards the tree, he realized that someone else had already claimed it as their own sanctuary. And that someone was the most beautiful girl Harry had ever seen.

She was about Harry's age, give or take a year or so, and had soft, wavy hair that tumbled in loose curls all the way down her back, hair that was the prettiest shade of scarlet that Harry had ever seen. Her skin was lightly freckled and sun-browned, and her body was slight and slender. She held some kind of book – a diary, perhaps? – and was writing in it with some kind of strange, plumed red-and-gold feather. Her eyes, almost hidden by a lock of that soft scarlet hair, were cast down upon the book. It was only when Harry got closer that he noticed what colour they were – a warm, chocolate brown. They were amazingly filled with all different emotions – laughter, mischief, happiness, innocence, but underneath it all there was an underlying, but clearly present, hint of loneliness.

Excitement filled Harry up to the core. Could this girl be like him – friendless, alone? Could Harry possibly become_ friends_ with her?

As soon as Harry thought this, his dismissed his initial wonderings. He had never had a friend before – everybody thought he was strange, weird, odd. This girl would be no different – he was sure of it.

However, just as he thought this, words seemed to force their way out of Harry's mouth, apparently of their own accord. He heard himself speak as though it were a stranger talking – "Hello, what's your name?"

The girl looked up, startled. Harry cursed himself for being so – what was the word? Mysterious? Sudden? Yes, that was it. Sudden. The poor girl clearly had no idea how long he had been watching her – for all she knew, he could have been staring at her for hours – given that she had been there for hours, of course.

"Wh-who are you?" she said, the look of shock in her deer-caught-in-headlights-like eyes changing swiftly and suddenly to suspicion. "Explain yourself."

Harry restrained a grin with difficulty, for reasons he was completely unaware of. This girl was so – _feisty. _And it was with a complete loss of control of his tongue that he responded, "My name's Harry. Now, to repeat my question, what's _your_ name?"

The girl's eyes were still suspicious. "I'm smart enough not to divulge things like that to complete strangers, thanks. And _don't_ say you're _not_ a stranger because you've told me your name. I'd want to know someone for more than five seconds before I told them my name, all blasé without a care in the world. It's a dangerous world." She folded her arms defiantly.

This time, he really _did_ smile, for a reason again unclear to him. _Why_ was this girl so different from the others? _Why_ was she so unlike the girls from his old school back at Surrey?

Ottery St. Catchpole was definitely a strange town, Harry mentally decided. Suddenly aware that this curious girl was awaiting his reply, Harry decided this time to hold his tongue and keep control of what he said.

Weighing his words carefully, he finally responded with, "I _promise _I mean you no harm. My full name's Harry Potter." He tried to convey as much genuineness through his tone of voice and his eyes as he could.

For some again unknown reason – God, was he getting tired of these constant unknown reasons! – the unique girl began coughing violently when he said this. Finally, when her coughing fit subsided, the girl spoke, this time with apology laced through her words.

"I'm _really_ sorry," she said sincerely. "My name's Ginny – Ginevra, really, but I hate that name – and my last name's Weasley." Harry was clueless as to what he had said to cause this sudden change of tone which had seemingly come from nowhere. He was getting quite fed up with not knowing anything. Apart from her name, this girl truly was a mystery.

He didn't know why, but Harry felt drawn to this – this Ginny. Everything about her was, at least in his eyes (and from the little that he knew), perfect. He was seized by a sudden, mad desire to be her friend. So it was with a complete lack of muscle control that he flopped down beside her, putting his back to the tree trunk and shifting so that as little tree roots poked into his backside as possible, which was surprisingly easier than it looked due to the soft moss that cushioned them.

Ginny's eyes widened in surprise, but Harry took no notice – or at least, he _pretended_ to take no notice. Taking extra care not to blurt anything extra out, Harry asked her, "What are you doing here?" He was careful to soften his words so as not to appear too blunt. He was, for some unknown reason, desperate not only for a friend, but for Ginny especially to be that friend. Now acutely aware of this strange desire, he vowed then and there, on the spot, to turn over a new leaf here at Ottery St. Catchpole.

"I'm… I, um…" Ginny looked reluctant to tell him why she was here at the weeping-tree. The question had the clear potential to be tactless – Harry only just realized this after he had foolishly spoken the words. He chided himself for being so stupid – at first he hadn't thought the question to be a personal one, but he really didn't know anything about Ginny or her life – she could be here mourning somebody's death or something.

Finally, after an awkward and rather pregnant pause, Ginny began talking again, albeit in a quiet voice. "I'm here to get away from my brothers. I'm a lot younger than them as well as being the only girl. They exclude me all the time." Ginny blushed as soon as she said this.

Harry felt a surge of sympathy for the poor girl, followed by a feeling of immense elation. If she was telling him things as private- and personal-seeming as this, did that mean that she was his friend?

"I – I'm sorry to burden you," Ginny said hurriedly.

"No, no, that's perfectly alright," Harry exclaimed, his voice rushed a little from his haste to get rid of the awkwardness. There was another lull in the half-conversation, but this time it wasn't as awkward and heavy as before. It was more pleasant, for the both of them knew, somehow, without a clue in the world as to how they knew, that they had just made their first friend.

For the rest of the day the duo talked, just talking, happily aware of their first ever friendship. Sometimes they would talk about morose things, like Harry's life with the Dursleys and how Ginny always felt excluded from her six brothers, and other times they talked about lighter things, things that they could talk freely about without their voices hitching with sadness or shame. They didn't even retreat back to their separate houses for lunch – the giddy feeling inside the both of them was sustainment enough.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had just made their first friends respectively.

Little did they know that just the next day they would become far more than friends.


	2. 1 Molly and Albus

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site!**

**I wanted to thank all my fabulous reviewers! There are too many of you to thank you all, and of the ones I've read, there was only one that was even remotely bad – and I promise to that person that all will be explained below! Thanks again, and you know who you are, **

**SapphireDragon92. **

**Chapter One**

**Molly and Albus**

Ginny felt like she was floating on air as she raced home from her talk with Harry. She had a _friend! _A real _friend! _And to top things off, her first ever friend was _Harry Potter,_ the Boy Who Lived, the boy who she had demanded of her father to tell the story of every night! True, she hadn't heard his story since she was four, but _still!_

Ginny had been rather let down by the discovery that, as far as she knew, Harry didn't know anything about magic. True, he _could _have been pretending he didn't know because he thought _she_ was a muggle, but if he knew about magic, wouldn't he know that she was a witch by her last name? Before she knew it, Ginny had found her way home.

Banging through the front door to the Burrow, Ginny rushed straight to the kitchen where her mother was making dinner – a Sunday roast. She skipped past the dining table to see her mother with her back to Ginny, sprinkling rosemary and garlic on the roast chicken and baked potatoes. "Mum!" she cried. "You'll _never_ guess what I've been doing today!"

Mrs. Weasley turned around so fast that she knocked over the packet of herbs. _"Ginny!_ Where on _earth_ have you _been?!"_ Damn it, Ginny thought. I forgot I didn't come back for lunch. Mum's going to have a seizure!

"I was in the woods, Mum. Next to the lake. I made a _friend!"_ Ginny said, ecstatically.

Mrs. Weasley, who looked half-mad with worry, visibly relaxed. Her eyes softening, she said, voice still cross, "Well that's lovely Ginny dear, but you must be _starving!"_

Ginny glanced up into her mother's eyes, suddenly saddened by the fact that Harry was probably sitting miserably at the kitchen table at that moment, chewing morosely on some sort of salad. _He_ wouldn't be getting fussed over like she was. Finally realizing that her mother was waiting on a reply, Ginny said softly, "No, I'm not very hungry."

Mrs. Weasley's eyes took on a worried look. "Do you know your friend's name?"

Ginny paused, wondering whether to tell her mother about Harry. Finally deciding that it couldn't hurt, Ginny spoke in a much lighter tone that reflected her happiness, "He's Harry Potter!"

Mrs. Weasley's eyes changed swiftly from apprehension to disbelief before finally flooding with suspicion. "Are you _sure?"_ she asked, her voice barely audible due to the worry in it. Not knowing what her mother was getting at, Ginny nodded. "Positive."

Dinner that night was an awkward affair. If Percy, Ron, Fred and George noticed anything, they didn't comment on it. Ginny was worried. The air was thick with tension, and she didn't know why. It wasn't as if the Harry she had talked to was one of You-Know-Who's followers following in his footsteps or something.

Ginny choked on her mouthful of roast vegetables. That was _exactly_ what her mother thought he was! Shaking her head with this sudden realization, Ginny resolved to tell her mother that she was positive that her new friend really _was_ Harry.

Unfortunately, Ginny didn't get the chance. Mrs. Weasley hurried all her kids to bed straight after dinner, something she only did when she was worried about something. Ginny couldn't get a word in edgewise before she was hustled into her ground-floor bedroom.

Sighing, Ginny decided that no matter _what_ her mother thought, she would sneak off in the morning to talk to Harry after making her _own_ breakfast. _Nothing_ would stop her from forging this friendship.

Molly Weasley was worried. _Very_ worried. Firstly her youngest and only daughter didn't come home for lunch – Ginny always had a _huge _appetite that could rival her brothers', and _that _was saying something! Then she_ did_ come home for dinner, babbling on about a new friend! Of course, Molly was ecstatic about the fact that her daughter had a friend – she rarely made friends, and was quite shy when it came to people other than family (around her brothers she was the exact _opposite_ of shy – _intimidating_ was more like it!) But when she had pronounced her friend to be the legendary Harry Potter, Molly had become worried. Didn't Harry Potter live in Surrey? If this was so, how did he get here, then? Unless…

Unless this 'Harry Potter' was an imposter. An imposter who could mean Ginny, and perhaps their whole _family,_ harm. _That_ was why Molly was worried.

She needed to see Dumbledore.

Rushing to the fireplace, Molly grabbed a pinch of Floo powder. Calling a quick goodbye to Arthur, she whipped out her wand and announced, "Incendio!" Crackling flames leapt up from the hearth.

Stepping into these flames, Molly took a deep breath, tucked in her elbows and shouted, "The Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts!" She tossed the Floo powder around her in a grey flurry.

Catching glimpses of random wizarding rooms connected to the Floo network, Molly finally shot out of one of the fireplaces and looked up to see an elegant, eloquent red-and-gold-plumed bird – Fawkes, Albus Dumbledore's phoenix. A moment later, the white-bearded man himself was peering down at her through his half-moon spectacles. "Ah, Molly," he said. "To what do I owe you this late-night pleasure?"

Molly picked herself quickly up off the floor, dusting off the ash from her clothes as discreetly as she could. "I wanted to ask you something about Harry Potter," she said clearly.

"Ah, yes. Harry. I was wondering when you would come to see me about him." _Why_ did Albus Dumbledore seem to know everything you were about to say before you said it? _Why?_

"Yes. Um… well, I was wondering where Harry lived at the moment," said Molly uneasily. "Could you tell me?"

Albus' blue eyes twinkled merrily. "Yes. Harry has now moved into Ottery St. Catchpole now. Just on the other side of that lake and the forest around it, I believe." That All-Knowing voice could really get on your nerves sometimes, Molly thought, annoyed.

"Yes, well… Why exactly _did _he move? And why to Ottery St. Catchpole?"

"I do believe that Harry's uncle has been transferred to the branch of his company at Ottery St. Catchpole," said Albus evasively. He really knew how to avoid the things one wanted to know.

"Did you move Harry there on purpose?" asked Molly, her annoyance showing in her voice now.

"I certainly did not intervene. When I discovered that the Dursleys were moving I thought it best to leave Fate to its own devices." Albus' eyes were twinkling again.

There was a short silence in the Headmasters' Office at Hogwarts. Fawkes broke the silence with a loud, musical trill. Finally Albus asked, "Why did you want to know?"

Molly paused. She was pretty sure Dumbledore knew exactly why she had asked, but all the same she said resignedly, "Harry and Ginny have made friends with each other. I came because I was worried about whether or not it was really Harry and not some ex-Death Eater."

Albus nodded thoughtfully. "Well, have a good night," he said, eyes resuming their merry twinkle. Taking herself to be dismissed, Molly Flooed through the fireplace without a backwards glance.


	3. 2 The Soul Bond

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site!**

**Chapter Two**

**The Soul Bond**

Ginny woke up early the next morning. Stretching, she jumped out of bed and dressed quickly and swiftly into a pair of Muggle jeans and a T-shirt with a water-lily on the front. It was her favourite outfit. Hurrying out of her room, she tiptoed over to the fridge and took out a tub of yoghurt.

"What do you think you're doing, young lady?" snapped Mrs. Weasley. Ginny spun around guiltily, the spoon she had retrieved from the cupboard clanking onto the tiled floor.

"I-I was just getting myself some breakfast," she lied pathetically. Even as she spoke she knew the lie was a bad one. She _never_ got herself breakfast unless she was planning on sneaking away… which she _was._ She might as well have confessed to her plan of sneaking out!

"Hmph," said Mrs. Weasley. "Of course you were." Her voice was sarcastic.

After a few moments of awkward silence, Mrs. Weasley's eyes softened and she said, "I saw Dumbledore last night." Ginny silently groaned. Now her mother would tell her not to go and see Harry… but she'd promised! What was she going to do?

"Relax," Mrs. Weasley said soothingly. "Albus said that Harry really _had_ moved here. He didn't seem too surprised that the two of you had made friends, actually. I_ suppose_ you can go." The yoghurt lay forgotten on the kitchen bench as a surprised but delighted Ginny ran up to her mother and threw her arms around her.

"Oh thank you thank you _thank you!"_ she squealed.

Three sausages, two bacon-and-egg muffins and a glass of orange juice later, Ginny ran out the door with an over-the-shoulder goodbye to her mother, father and Percy, the only ones up. Despite the intoxicating smell of the delicious breakfast, Fred, George and Ron remained in their deep slumber. Ginny was in so much of a rush that she even forgot to bring the diary and quill that she had been using when Harry had found her. Damn it, she thought as she ran at top speed through the woods by the lakeside. What am I going to do to pass the time before he comes?

It turned out that Ginny didn't need to worry. Harry was already leaning against the old weeping-tree when she arrived.

"Harry!" she called delightedly.

Harry, who had been disappointedly twiddling his thumbs before Ginny had arrived, looked up when she called straight away.

"Ginny!" he yelled, delighted. "I thought you weren't going to come!" She looks just as pretty as always, thought Harry as she raced up. I'm so glad she ended up coming.

Harry really had thought that Ginny wouldn't come back. Last night and this morning had been dreadful for him.

As soon as he had arrived back at the Dursleys', Harry had been screamed at for an hour straight because he had 'Not reported back to him' (it was the hippo speaking) 'as soon as he had finished his set chores to get some more.' After that he had been given a measly dinner of bread and cheese which was hardly a sufficient dinner, let alone a replacement for his missed midday meal. After another hour of unpacking (with him doing the worst jobs like heaving the T.V. out of its box and setting up the entertainment unit) he had finally been allowed the 'privilege' of going to bed.

Harry had slept fitfully that night. Tossing and turning, a dream had convinced him that Ginny would not come the next morning, although she had promised. So it was rather demurely that Harry had returned to the weeping-tree the next morning after a rather pathetic breakfast of half a bowl of cornflakes.

So you van imagine Harry's delight when Ginny called out to him after about an hour of thumb-twiddling!

Harry and Ginny enjoyed another morning of talking, with the both of them recounting yesterday afternoon to this morning (when they had parted to when they reunited, with Ginny leaving out the bit about Dumbledore and her mother). Before they knew it, it was lunchtime.

"Hey, Harry," said Ginny. "Do you want to come to my place for lunch? I'm sure my mother wouldn't mind."

Harry was ecstatic! Only one-and-a-half days into the friendship and he was invited to Ginny's house for lunch! Deliriously happy, Harry quickly agreed to Ginny's offer, and soon the duo arrived at the Burrow.

"Well, who might you be, dear?" asked Molly Weasley. Of course, she knew who the poor orphaned boy was, but preferred to be polite and ask him his name.

"I'm… I'm Harry Potter," said Harry nervously.

Mrs. Weasley smiled, saying, "Well, come in, dear, and I'll get you some lunch."

Harry was dumbfounded._ Never_ had an adult been this… well, this _motherly_ to him. Sure, his school teachers had been kind, but not like this. He decided that he rather liked the change.

Though Harry didn't know it and Ginny only suspected, when Mrs. Weasley left to 'pick some vegetables' she was really warning her four present sons not to recognize him and to pretend they were Muggles.

The lunch meal that Mrs. Weasley prepared for her five present children and Harry was like nothing Harry had ever tasted before. It was, to put it simply, _delicious._ The meal consisted of vegetables, pork chops and a rich brown gravy, and was a far cry form the measly sandwiches or salads that his midday meal usually consisted of. Harry couldn't stop stammering his thanks as he and Ginny left, albeit after Harry making semi-friends with Ron and the twins (he found that Percy got on his nerves).

However, this delight was short-lived – actually, no. That wasn't right. His _consciousness _was what was short-lived.

For on the way back to the weeping-tree, Ginny tripped over a tree-root. And instinctively, Harry's arms snaked out and wrapped around her waist.

It was the first time they had touched.

The first time they touched, everything went black.


	4. 3 The Wizarding World

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site!**

**Again, I'd like to thank all the people who have given me reviews, put me on a Favourites list or on their Story Alert. I never used to leave reviews on stories, but I've resolved to now because I know how motivating they really are! **

**Chapter Three**

**The Wizarding World**

The moon was rising when Molly decided it was high time for her to bring Ginny home. It was getting _dark_ out, for heavens' sakes! What did the girl think she was _doing?_

Pulling on her boots, Molly trudged through the dirt, following the two sets of footprints that would logically be Ginny's and Harry's. Both footprints were small, though one set was bigger than the other, and the smaller set of footprints was heavier. That made perfect sense – the footprints of a nine- and ten-year-old would be small, but Harry as the elder boy would have bigger feet, yet Ginny walked rather heavily, so her footprints would be deeper. Molly knew the last part because whenever Ginny got up during the night, her footprints could be heard from all the way up in the attic.

Molly was resigned to following these footprints due to the fact that she had no idea where in the forest the duo could be. However, she was glad she hadn't known, because otherwise she would have gone straight there and therefore missed seeing the…

The unconscious bodies of her daughter and Harry Potter.

Molly ran back to the Burrow at top speed. As soon as she got there, the first thing she did was look straight up at the family clock.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she said, relieved (though only momentarily). Arthur's hand pointed to 'Home.' At the moment, Molly Weasley, the woman who rarely lost her cool, was losing it… and fast. She didn't know what to do. Her baby was unconscious!

"Molly! What's wrong?" asked Arthur worriedly. He had been told about Ginny and her new friend, Harry Potter. _Nothing,_ however, could have prepared him for what his wife was telling him now.

"She's _what?!"_ Arthur roared.

"Un-unconscious," Molly repeated, sniffling. "I d-don't know wh-what to _do!"_

"Get Albus," said Arthur tersely.

And 'get Albus' they did.

_Harry and Ginny stood in some kind of peaceful, serene grove. The air was perfumed with the scent of wildberries, and lush, glossy ferns permeated the gleaming golden sunlight._

"_Where _are _we?" gasped Harry. "What is this?"_

_Ginny, however, looked worried. She had a feeling that she knew where they were, and if she was right…_

_She would have to tell Harry about wizards. _

_Sighing, Ginny realized that she was resigned to the Fate of telling Harry. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to say anything about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named._

"Who_ must not be named?" asked Harry, confused. _

_She was right, then. They really_ were_ inside each others' minds. A small part of her had still been hoping that she was wrong. _

"_I didn't say anything," Ginny sighed. _

_Harry turned to her. "You know something I don't," he said, half-accusing, half-curious. "What is it?"_

_Sighing for what felt like the thirtieth time in their minds, Ginny answered, "Yes. We are in each others' minds."_

_Harry gasped. "That's not possible," he said. _

"_It is," Ginny answered. "There's something I've been keeping from you." It tore her up inside to see the look of hurt on Harry's face right then. "I had no choice _but_ to keep it from you. You see, Harry… you and me, and all my family, _and_ your mum and dad, and others as well… we're wizards. Witches and wizards."_

"What?!"_ gasped Harry. "That really_ is_ impossible!"_

"_No it's not," Ginny sighed. "We really are… I wouldn't lie to you… you know that, don't you." It was a statement, not a question. _

_Harry looked at her, considering her. Finally, he said, "You're telling the truth…" He looked shocked. "How do I know that? How do I _know_ you're telling the truth?" Their eyes met. _

_Slowly, resignedly, Ginny began to explain the _real_ story of how Harry's parents died. She finished up with, "I still don't know how we're doing this, though." They were silent for a moment._

"_We're dreaming," said Harry finally. "But it's real. We're talking to each other in our dreams." Ginny nodded in confirmation. _

_They were silent for a while, staring at the mysterious grove. Then, suddenly, everything started to fade away… except each other. "We're waking up!" yelled Harry. And then…_

Colour flooded back into everything.

Harry and Ginny woke up on the biggest lounge at Ginny's house, surprisingly intertwined in a position rather unsuitable for a nine- and a ten-year-old - Harry's arms were wrapped around Ginny's stomach. Harry tried to unravel himself, only to find that his muscles were too slack to move without a stabbing pain.

"Wh-wha'ss goin'on," Ginny mumbled, her voice slurred slightly.

Harry glanced up to see, much to his shock, a strange man with a long silver beard and hair to match. The man had twinkling blue eyes that peered down at Ginny and he curiously through half-moon spectacles. _Who the hell is he? _thought Harry sleepily.

_That's Albus Dumbledore,_ a soft female voice answered.

_Ginny?_ Harry gasped, suddenly wide awake.

_Don't you remember our conversation? _asked Ginny, sounding somewhat amused.

Harry thought back quickly and suddenly remembered the strange dream he had had. _Oh my God, _he thought. _I'm a wizard! And you and me have this weird mind connection thing! _He was delighted.

"Harry Potter," said the silver-bearded man whose name was apparently Albus Dumbledore. "I suppose you're wondering who I am, why I am here, and what is going on… amongst other things." The man's voice was piercing and sharp, but kind.

Harry was about to say that he wasn't actually wondering about any of these things when Ginny's voice in his head said, _No, don't. If you say what you're about to say, they will want to find out about this mind-link thing. I want it to be our secret, okay? Please? _Harry shut his mouth and nodded. "Yeah, I'm… I'm wondering," he said quickly.

Albus Dumbledore's way of describing Voldemort (He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named) was very different to Ginny's explanation. He was a lot blunter about some details and seemed to want to avoid others. After an hour of pretending to listen to things he had heard before, Harry said, "It's almost sunrise. The Dursleys will go nuts when I get back." He was reluctant to say 'home', because now he didn't feel that the new, strange house was 'home'. 'Home' was wherever Ginny was.

"Don't worry," said Dumbledore. "I'm not a wizard for nothing." His eyes twinkled. "The Dursleys are under the impression that you have already returned home. Now, off you trot."

And off he trotted.


	5. 4 Leaving For Hogwarts

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site! **

**Chapter Four**

**Leaving For Hogwarts**

The next few months were delightful for Harry and Ginny. Both their birthdays came and went, and they discovered that, if there was enough peace on one end of their 'mind-link', as they had termed it, one of them could close their eyes and look through the other person's eyes, hearing, smelling, feeling and, if the other was eating, tasting too, whatever the other person could see, hear, smell, feel, and taste. They explored other areas of their 'mind-link' too, and soon realized that they could keep no secrets from each other.

Ginny was appalled at how the Dursleys treated him; whereas Harry was horrified at how often Ginny's four still-Hogwarts-aged brothers excluded her from everything. The 'mind-link', however, took their minds off all their other troubles, and things improved greatly for the both of them.

Another thing that they discovered about their 'mind-link' was that each night they had the option of whether to sleep normally or to reenter the odd grove in which they had first discovered their connection. They soon learned that sleep was to rest the body, not the mind, and they could stay in their 'dream-chamber', as they had termed _these_ all night if so they wished and still wake up in the morning fresh and regenerated.

However, their bliss was short-lived. All too soon Harry had received his letter for Hogwarts, and now it was only the day before he left. The duo sat morosely at the weeping-tree, Harry's arm draped protectively over Ginny's shoulders.

_I can't believe I'm not going to see you for a whole year! _cried Ginny.

_I know, _Harry said sympathetically. _This mind-link better work long-distance. _

_Oh, it will, _said Ginny devilishly. _Or I'll kill it._

_You can't kill it! _Harry laughed._ Then it won't exist, you nincompoop._

Ginny pouted. _Okay, here's my task while you're at Hogwarts. I'm going to convince Mum to let you come home with Ron for Christmas. She's already starting to love you like her own son. _

Harry smiled. _Your mum is so wonderful, _he said. _She's like my own mum the way she dotes on me. She's certainly the closest thing to a mum I've got._

_But then you would be my brother! _Ginny giggled. _I've heard of these mind-link things before, but never between siblings! _They both laughed.

The day ended all too soon.

Before they knew it, the next day had come around. Harry told the Dursleys that he would find his own way to King's Cross Station before running with his trunk-on-wheels trailing after him through the woods to the Burrow.

"Hello, Harry," said Mr. Weasley with a smile. "You've got your trunk, then? Good, good." Mr. Weasley took Harry's trunk from him to do God knows what with, and Harry gratefully rushed over to Ginny.

A few moments later, Harry discovered exactly how they were to get to King's Cross Station – Side-Along-Apparition. It _seemed_ to simply be disappearing from one place and reappearing in another – but Harry soon discovered that it was quite different.

As you had to be 'of age' (seventeen) to Apparate by yourself, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would be helping the six children along. Percy and Ron gripped an arm each of Mr. Weasley whereas he and Ginny held an arm each of Mrs. Weasley. Fred and George were staying behind – Mr. Weasley would be coming back for them.

Grasping his trunk with his free arm, Harry braced himself (for what he didn't know) but despite his tensed body and feeling of foreboding, he wasn't quite ready when Mrs. Weasley, and in turn he and Ginny too, disappeared with a loud and rather disconcerting _pop._

It was the worst sensation of his life. Harry felt like he was being squeezed through a rubber tube that was way too tight; iron bands compressed his chest so that he could not breathe; his eyes were being pushed back into his skull; his mouth and nose were gravitationally forced closed; and he felt the rather peculiar sensation of something very hard and solid being wrapped around him, wrapped so tight that he could almost feel his skin being pushed back, stretched uncomfortably tight around his bones. And then –

And then it was all over. Eyes streaming, Harry gulped lungfuls of sweet spring air, enjoying the feeling of being able to move. Apparition could – _and would _– unnerve even the least claustrophobic of people. Rolling his shoulders and flexing his muscles, Harry let go of Mrs. Weasley's arm, slightly worried that he had cut off her circulation.

Ginny grinned at him. _Not the most pleasant thing in the world, is it? _

_I'll say, _answered Harry. _It's horrid. _

They had Apparated behind a little haven of bushes across the road from King's Cross Station. Apparently it was a popular destination for families with Hogwarts-age kids on September the 1st, for Harry thought he saw a glimpse of a woman with two children as they left.

The platform was bustling with people. Some looked like ordinary Muggles, but others pushed trolleys laden with trunks and caged owls.

Harry, Ginny, and the others walked towards the wall between platforms nine and ten slowly and purposefully. When they finally arrived, it was six minutes to eleven. Percy and Ron went through the barrier side by side, followed by Fred and George. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went next, leaving Harry and Ginny by themselves.

Grabbing Ginny's arm, Harry steered the two of them through the barrier, gasping when they finally went through – the sight was amazing! The Hogwarts Express was shiny and red, with gold writing on the front that read; 'Hogwarts Express'. The writing was a rather fancy script, but seemed to be peeling all the same. Families bustled around the platform busily, saying their tearful goodbyes.

Though there was no need to continue holding Ginny's hand, Harry didn't let go. The tearful two boarded the train, Ginny helping Harry hoist his trunk up onto a shelf in one of the compartments.

Glancing out the window, Harry was shocked to find that it was one minute to eleven – they had one minute to say their farewells. Harry turned back to Ginny, who had seen the clock as well – he could tell. Wordlessly, without even saying anything through their mind link, Ginny threw her arms around Harry's waist, holding him tight. Then, glancing back only quickly, she tore out of the compartment, racing down the aisle and dodging everything she came across. Harry watched sadly as she departed. The train was just beginning to move when Ginny jumped off. Sighing, Harry turned around and sat on one of the seats in his compartment, feeling rather lonely all of a sudden.

One-and-a-half hours later, Harry and Ron sat playing a game of Exploding Snap (Ron's idea – and Ron's cards too, for that matter) and munching on a bunch of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans and Chocolate Frogs (Harry's idea, and Harry's money too – Ron had protested quite profoundly at this, so it had taken a while to convince him) among other wizarding snacks. Ginny was quite happy about this arrangement – she was currently at the weeping-tree, concentrating on him and therefore able to taste the food through him. They (Harry and Ron) were really getting into the game, and Harry also had more of a chance at beating Ron due to Ginny's constant providing of strategies and techniques, when…

"Will you have a look at this," drawled a familiar voice. Malfoy, an annoying and incessant boy who Harry had met at Madam Malkin's robe shop, now stood at the entrance to the compartment. "Why didn't you tell me you were Harry Potter?" Malfoy asked, sneering. This was directed at Harry, of course. When Malfoy and he had met at the robe store, Malfoy had asked a rather stupid and arrogant question; 'Your parents are _our kind, _aren't they?' Harry had been annoyed and offended at this – Ginny had told Harry about the mindless prejudice that 'pure-bloods' as they deemed themselves held against Muggles. Harry had been about to snap an angry retort at him when Ginny had told him, rather cleverly, to say; 'They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean.' This way Malfoy had no idea that Harry's mother had been a Muggleborn, making him a half-blood – Malfoy had (had being the key word, of course) been put under the impression that Harry was a pureblood. _Bye-bye impressions, _Harry thought bitterly.

One angry conversation with Malfoy involving one of his 'friends' (more like cronies) and a rather sharp-toothed rat (Ron's, who went by the name of Scabbers) later, Harry and Ron were talking to a worried boy named Neville and another girl who appeared to be his friend, Hermione. Neville was worried, it seemed, because his toad, Trevor, was missing.

"You'll find him, don't worry," said Harry sympathetically.

The hours on the train whizzed by before Harry and Ron (and Ginny) knew it. Before too long, they had arrived at Hogsmeade Station – they were almost there. And then…

"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" called a… Harry's first thought was a giant, but straight after that Ginny dismissed it, saying, _Hagrid's not a giant. Giants are at least twenty feet tall. _

_Hagrid? _asked Harry. _Who's… oh! That man. Forget I said anything._

_That's not likely, _said Ginny with a snort. _I__ will hold you to your word on anything and everything, mister._

Hagrid turned out to be quite nice, if a bit roguish when it came to animals, and told them to get into boats on the side of the lake in groups of four. Hermione and Neville joined the boat in which Harry and Ron had gotten into, and off they sailed.

The first glimpse of Hogwarts was truly magnificent. Ginny, who was looking through his eyes, gave a muffled sort of squeal and fell silent – the first sign of behavior that betrayed her otherwise tomboyish nature. Harry stared at the magnificent, magnanimous white stone that rose in turrets, gleaming in the light of the glistening full moon. He couldn't – simply _couldn't_ – take his eyes off of it. It really_ was_ beautiful.

Nothing much else happened from then on in during the boat trip. When they got off, however, Neville found his toad; ("Trevor!") and then…

A tall, magnificent set of elegant double doors swung open, with an irate, stern-looking woman looking down at them from the newly revealed steps.


	6. 5 Researching Soul Bonds

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site! **

**I would like to again thank every one of my reviewers, as well as all the people who put this story on Favourites and/or their Story Alert. I used to find it silly that people said that reviews were motivating – but they really are! If you like this story, PLEASE REVIEW! Constructive criticism accepted and welcomed. **

**Thanks,**

**SapphireDragon92 **

**Chapter Five**

**Researching Soul Bonds**

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was truly an extraordinary place – Harry discovered this within the first very few days. His first class was Transfiguration, and Harry learned straight away that magic definitely wasn't as easy as it looked.

"Transfiguration is a very complex and dangerous branch of magic," announced Professor McGonagall sternly once everyone was in their seats. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She then showed the class something rather interesting – she changed her desk into a pig and back again. _(Cool! _Ginny had exclaimed when she did this).

However, Professor McGonagall soon made it clear that they would not under any circumstances be doing magic anywhere _near_ as complicated as that for a very long time and, in her book, it would be unwise to try. She first set the class to copying a lot of long and complex notes before telling them to try and turn a match into a needle.

Harry stared at the match, desperately trying the incantation _(Matchius Transformus), _but the match rather stubbornly stayed a match. _Try willing the match to turn into a needle first, _Ginny advised. _Visualize it changing in your head. _Then _cast the spell._

Harry did as she said – and it worked! Well, sort of, anyway. The needle was still rather blunt and was missing the loop, but it was definitely silvery and metallic! The only person who accomplished as much as he did was Hermione.

Charms was the second class they had. Professor Flitwick, the teacher, was so small that he had to stand on top of a stack of books to see over his desk. He, too, set them too copying down some complex notes before allowing them to try a practical spell _(Wingardium Leviosa, _which was a levitating charm – they had to attempt to levitate a feather). Harry only succeeded in lifting the feather four inches (with the help and guidance of Ginny) whereas Hermione levitated hers two whole metres. (The rest of the class failed miserably).

The class that was by far the most boring was History of Magic – the teacher, Professor Binns, was the only ghost teacher at Hogwarts, but the only grain of excitement in his class was him floating through the blackboard as an entrance. The rest of the class was so boring that half the students fell asleep. Binns droned on about things that had the potential to be exciting, but instantly turned boring when he said them.

These two classes, along with Defense Against the Dark Arts, were _supposed _to be the only three classes where you performed practical magic – Professor Quirrell, the DADA teacher, seemed to be a bit of a joke. Quirrell wore a strange purple turban around his head, and that, along with the entire classroom, smelled strongly of garlic. Quirrell also seemed to have a strange sort of stutter whenever he even _mentioned_ anything even _remotely _dark. The class often joked that the classroom had a layer of garlic on everything and the turban was stuffed full of garlic to ward off vampires.

Astronomy, the class where you studied the stars, was another class. It was held on Wednesdays at the stroke of midnight, and you had to peer through telescopes to identify the positions of stars.

Herbology was the study of plants. It was held three times a week in one of the three side-by-side greenhouses out on the school grounds. Professor Sprout, the dumpy little witch who was their teacher, taught them all about strange magical plants and fungi.

But by far Harry's least favourite class was Potions. And it had nothing to do with the subject.

It was the teacher, Professor Snape. He, for no seemingly apparent reason, _hated _Harry.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion-making," he began the class with. After droning on for what seemed like hours, he then proceeded to take the register.

"Ah… _Harry Potter,"_ said Snape once he got to Harry's name. "Our new… _celebrity."_ The Slytherins in the class all sniggered.

"Potter!" Snape suddenly snapped. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

_Powdered root of what to an infusion of what? _Harry thought. On the other end of his mind-link, he could hear Ginny, who was making some sort of pie with her mother, asking Mrs. Weasley the question. A moment later she said, _The Draught of Living Death. _

"You would get the Draught of Living Death, sir," said Harry.

Looking annoyed, the greasy-haired teacher sneered, "And where would you look if I asked you to find a bezoar?"

Again, Harry repeated the question to Ginny, who replied with, _In the stomach of a goat. A bezoar is an antidote to most poisons._

Harry repeated this to Snape as politely as he could, who shot back with, "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

This time, when Harry answered with, "They are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite," Snape looked livid.

"You cheat!" he cried. "One point from Gryffindor!"

Ginny had a lot to say about this, but the number of creative insults she came up with did nothing to assuage Harry's anger. _That's totally unfair! _Harry thought, over the top of, _Greasy, smelly git! Go get some shampoo! _

Snape then set the class to brewing a simple potion to cure boils. They had to work in pairs, so Harry and Ron set up a cauldron beside Neville and Seamus. Then, halfway into the class…

"Ouch!" cried Neville. Somehow, he had managed to twist the cauldron that he and Seamus were using into a hissing blob, and the potion was now seeping along the floor. People jumped up on chairs and tables to avoid the flow, but Neville, who had been standing right in the cauldron's line of fire, caught a faceful of the potion. Angry red boils popped up on his face.

"Idiot boy!" Snape snapped. "Didn't I _tell _you all not to add the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?" And then, after he had sent Neville, with Seamus escorting him, off to the hospital wing in disgrace, he rounded on Harry and Ron.

"Why didn't you two stop him? Another point from Gryffindor!" the greasy git snapped. Harry opened his mouth in horror to argue, but Ginny gave him the equivalent of a mental kick, saying, _You'll only get into even more trouble if you try to rebuttal him! _

As the class filed out of the dungeons (the Gryffindors miserably and the Slytherins gleefully), Ron said, "Cheer up, mate! Snape's taken off loads more than two points of Fred and George!"

At lunch Harry received a note from Hagrid, whom he had gotten to know quite well at Hogsmeade Station, asking if they (Harry and Ron) would join him for afternoon tea. Harry borrowed a quill of Ron's to scribble his affirmative answer, and the two walked cheerfully down to Hagrid's.

After a chat with Hagrid that revealed a suspicious-looking article about a Gringotts (wizarding bank) break-in), Harry 'escaped' from Ron and the other Gryffindors during the rest of their free period to take a detour to the library. Why? Because he and Ginny wanted to look up more about their 'mind-link' (or soul bond, as the Sorting Hat put it).

_Where do I look? _asked Harry blankly. _The library's so __big._

_Try asking the librarian, _Ginny suggested helpfully. _Make sure to act inconspicuously, though – we don't want anyone suspecting anything! _Harry agreed fervently with that.

"Um, excuse me?" Harry asked the scary-looking librarian. "Do you… do you have a categorizing system or something?"

_Good idea, _Ginny approved.

Madam Pince glared at him. "Yes," she said finally. "Over there." She pointed to the place she referred to.

After looking at the categorizing system carefully, Harry discovered the books he was looking for in an auspicious-looking, dark, dusty corner of the book haven. It was straight out of a movie, but Harry supposed that the books he was looking for _would _be dusty and in a dark corner, because people would rarely look at them. Harry selected a few informative-looking books that had the most specific tiles and walked over to a deserted armchair where he wasn't likely to be disturbed.

_Okay, _he said. _Here's the first one – 'Soul Bonds and Other Relevant Information'. _He flicked through the fragile pages, looking for something that might be helpful.

_Aha! _he thought. _Here we go. Ginny, read through my eyes. _

_Alright, _she said. _What've you found, then?_

_**19: Soul Bonds **_

_**Soul bonds, or soul links as they are more like, are incredibly rare. These are where true soul mates discover their bond, and its rarity is due to the fact that soul mates, though everybody has one, can live on opposite sides of the world, can be between Muggles and magical folk alike, and most people never meet their soul mate. A soul bond occurs when soul mates experience skin-to-skin physical contact. A soul bond involves the option of sharing dreams, the ability to communicate through the mind, feeling the others' senses and emotions, sharing all physical and magical skills, etc. A soul bond between a Muggle and a witch/wizard can even give that Muggle magical prowess, the same going for a Squib. During the first two to three years of the bond, a soul-bonded pair can be separated for up to twelve months without harm, but either after this time period or if something traumatic affects the pair, they must stay close without separating for more than two hours then they fall ill physically as well as mentally and emotionally. After one to four years (depending on the age of the soul mates, the older the longer) of this time period, which is deemed the 'second stage' of the bond, this need will disappear. If the 'other half' as it is deemed of a soul-bonded pair dies, it is said that the living 'half' cannot bear life anymore. The longest known 'life-before-suicide' after the death of a soul-bonded person's other half is 26 hours. If the bond is strong enough, it can even cause instantaneous death. **_

_**Another side-effect of a soul-bond is immediate legal marriage. Marriage through soul-bonding instantly cancels out any previous betrothals. As underage marriage causes instant removal of the Trace as well as instant rewarding of all of-age privileges, a soul-bond would, it is assumed, cause this as well, but there are no underage soul-bonds recorded (at least before this book is published) to go by on that.**_

_Wow, _Harry thought finally. _Um, Ginny? _

_Yeah? _she asked.__

_You were reading that, weren't you?_

_Yes, _Ginny answered.

_Then you do realize that this means technically we're married, don't you? _Harry said.

There was a silence on the other end of the soul bond. Then –

A stream of disbelieving curses shot through the bond, and Ginny replied, _Um… no offence to you or anything, but… __Married?__ At the age of __ten?__ You have __got__ to be joking. _

_Nope,_ said Harry. _Read it yourself. _He looked directly down at the book so that she _could_ read it, and felt his eyes wobble awkwardly as she moved her eyes while he didn't.


	7. 6 Fooling Malfoy

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site!**

**I'm sorry to say that unfortunately, from here on in this story will mostly follow the plot. There isn't much I can change without dramatically changing all the rest of the stories in my series. I do, however, promise that the rest of the stories in the Core of Power series will be as original as possible, especially the second, sixth and seventh ones. I've planned the series out but I haven't written anything. Also, I'm almost done with the rest of this first story in the series, so there will hopefully be a couple of major updates soon. Thanks to my reviewers and/or authors who put me on Favourites and Story Alert. **

**SapphireDragon92. **

**Chapter Six**

**Fooling Malfoy**

Saturday was the day that marked the first flying lesson for the Gryffindors and the Slytherins. It was also, while Harry didn't know it at the time, the day that would mark his first two one-ups on Malfoy.

At breakfast that morning Hermione was trying desperately to find something in a library book – _Quidditch through the Ages _– that would help her have more luck on a broom. Quidditch wasn't something you could learn from a book, which was Hermione's specialty, so the only one who listened to her spouting out facts about broom inventions and flying strategies was Neville, who hung onto her every word, desperate for something to help him hang onto his broomstick later. As Hermione read excerpts of the Quidditch book to him, a parcel arrived for Neville.

"It's a Remembrall!" announced Neville of the little glass ball inside the parcel. "It glows red if you've forgotten something." He paused, watching the ball glow red. "I can't remember what I've forgotten."

At ten o'clock precisely, all the Gryffindor and Slytherin first-years filed out of the doors to the Entrance Hall and onto the Quidditch Pitch out on the grounds. Madam Hooch, the grey-haired Quidditch teacher/referee, stood waiting for them all with two rows of neatly laid-out broomsticks evenly spaced out in the middle of the pitch. She stood directly between the two rows of broomsticks.

"Well, come on, hurry up," she said. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. What are you waiting for?" There was a scramble as everyone tried to do as Madam Hooch said.

Harry glanced down at his broomstick. It was old and battered-looking, with the twigs at the bottom sticking out in all directions. _Fred and George said that all the school broomsticks are really crappy, _Ginny informed him. _They said that they all fly towards the left a bit or start to vibrate if you get too high. Fred even thinks they're charmed to do the latter. Then again, they could be joking. Fred and George are always __pranking__ people. _

"Alright, everyone got a broom? Now, stick your wand hand over the broomstick and say, 'Up'.

"Up!" the class shouted.

Harry's broomstick jumped into his hand at once, but nobody else's, not even Malfoy's (who had claimed he was a flying champion) did. Hermione's simply rolled over on the ground, Neville's didn't move at all, and Malfoy's flew up past his hand to hit him on the face.

"Tut, tut," tutted Madam Hooch as she walked around, correcting people's grips and showing them how to mount them properly. "Now, on my count of three, everybody push off together, rise two feet off the ground and come straight back down. Three… two…"

But Neville, jumpy, frightened and worried of being left behind, pushed off one count before Madam Hooch's whistle. A horrified look on his face, Neville shot upwards like a cork out of a bottle, twelve feet… twenty feet…

"Come back down, boy!" shrieked Madam Hooch.

And it was only then that Neville came down… but it was without his broomstick that he did. He shot forward, over the front of his broomstick, and landed with an almighty _thud _and an ominous crack on the rippling grass.

Madam Hooch rushed to his side straight away, steering him towards the castle doors. "Poor boy… a broken wrist… we'll have to take you up to the hospital wing." Then, over her shoulder she called, "If I catch any one of you off the ground, you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch'."

It was only when Madam Hooch was far from the scene that Malfoy had the courage to walk over to where Neville had fallen and pick something up from the ground.

"Oh look," he drawled. "It's Longbottom's Remembrall." He sniggered, the other Slytherins joining in.

"I'll just go and hide it from him," Malfoy continued, smirking. "How about… up a tree?"

"Give it here, _Malfoy," _Harry spat.

Malfoy smirked, obviously pleased that he had annoyed him. "Or maybe on the roof," he said lazily.

"I _said,_ give it _here,"_ Harry snapped, angry now. He threw a leg over his broomstick when –

"_No, Harry! You heard what Madam Hooch said, you'll get expelled!_"

Two voices, both female, spoke at the one time. Ginny and Hermione. One spoke out loud and the other spoke in his head. But for once, Harry ignored not only Hermione but Ginny too (though quite rebelliously) as he kicked off from the ground.

It was extraordinary. The wind in his hair, the feeling of freedom as he soared towards the sky. Turning towards Malfoy in mid-air, Harry accelerated suddenly and shot sharply towards him like a bullet.

Malfoy looked startled at Harry's flying prowess. Seeing this, Harry decided to play upon it and said once again, "Give it here, Malfoy." He spoke in a calm yet persuasive voice.

Malfoy still didn't look convinced, so Harry said slyly, "No Crabbe and Goyle to save your skin up here."

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy, who said decisively, "Well, if you want it, go get it, then." And he threw the little glass ball in the opposite direction.

Harry watched the Remembrall's rise and fall as if in slow motion. Then, all of a sudden, he shot straight towards the little glass ball as it fell towards the ground.

Harry's eyes were fixed so intently on the Remembrall that he didn't notice as he shot past one of the school windows, out of which McGonagall watched intently. But Ginny did. He sank forward into a flawless dive, chasing towards that little glass ball, snatching it out of the air as he swooped up barely an inch from the ground, landing flawlessly upon the glossy green pitch without so much as a scratch.

Cheers broke out amongst the Gryffindors, completely drowning out the booing of the Slytherins, who were led by Malfoy. Harry, however, wasn't listening to them as Ginny screeched, _McGonagall's coming! _

Harry didn't have the time to try and hide himself as the irate teacher strode across the lawns, yelling, "Potter!"

The cheers and boos were silenced at once. "Come with me," the Professor said to Harry, leading him away from his stricken-looking classmates.

_You're done for now, _said Ginny sympathetically. Harry could not help it but to agree with her.

Professor McGonagall led Harry up numerous staircases and through numerous corridors that he was beginning to lose track of when she halted suddenly in front of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

"Excuse me, but can I borrow Wood for a moment please?" she asked Professor Quirrell.

_Oh, no way, _said Ginny.

_What? _Harry asked her worriedly. _Is Wood some sort of cane? _

_No, _Ginny answered, sounding awed. _Wood's the – _

But she didn't get a chance to finish, because at that moment Harry saw for himself what – or who – Wood was.

Wood was a burly-looking fifth-year boy… a boy who wore the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain badge on his robes.

"Wood," said McGonagall formally. "I have found you a Seeker."

_Oh, that is too cool, _Ginny said, still in that awed voice. _They __never __make first-years __anything__ on Quidditch teams, let alone Seekers! _

Harry was just recounting his more-than-lucky scrape to Ron when Malfoy and his two cronies walked past the Gryffindor table, despite the fact that they didn't need to to get to _their_ table. Malfoy looked a lot more confident now that he was back on the ground with his two bodyguards beside him, and had regained his arrogant swagger.

The look on Malfoy's face was priceless as he took in the fact that Harry had not been expelled and was eating rather normally at his House table as if nothing had happened. Livid, he stalked towards Harry and Ron and said, "Having your last meal here, are you Potter?"

Harry smirked, reflecting the sneer on Malfoy's face with all the skill of a mirror. "You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you." Of course, there was nothing little about Crabbe and Goyle, but with a table full of teachers right behind them they could do nothing but scowl, crack their knuckles and move a little closer to Malfoy.

"I can take _you_ on any time on my own, _Potter,"_ spat Malfoy. "Tonight, down at the trophy room. Wizard's duel." He smirked.

"Fine," Harry returned. "See you there."

As soon as Malfoy had turned his back, however, Ginny said in his head, _Don't go, Harry. I'll bet you anything it's a trap. Malfoy's more likely to tell Filch than to turn up with you as his adversary – he's seen how good you are in classes. _Harry grinned to himself. _That good, am I? _he asked Ginny. His own cheeks warmed and coloured at her resulting blush.

"Excuse me," said Hermione. "I couldn't help but overhear what you were saying-"

"Bet you could," muttered Ron.

"-and you _mustn't_ go wandering around the corridors at night, what if you get caught? You'll lose all the points I got for knowing about Switching Spells." Hermione looked defiantly at Ron – it was quite clear that she had heard his comment, and that her way of retaliation was to outline the fact that she was more successful in classes than he was.

Spotting the brewing battle between Ron and Hermione, Harry decided to intervene before things got messy. "Of course we're not going," he said, to Ron's obvious chagrin. "Malfoy is more likely to tell Filch than to actually turn up."

Hermione looked at Harry approvingly. "Good," she said, smiling. As soon as she was out of earshot, Ron rounded on Harry and said, "You only said that to get her off our backs, didn't you?" He sounded almost accusing.

"No," said Harry. "What I said was the truth – if Malfoy isn't tipping off Filch right now then I'm a dragon."

The next morning at breakfast, Malfoy looked again livid at the fact that Harry was still at school. "See?" Harry asked Ron thickly through a mouthful of sausage. "The look on his face is enough proof that he was expecting us to be long gone."

"Genius, mate," said Ron, nodding. "Pure genius."

_Thank you, Ron, for the compliment, _said Ginny in Harry's head.


	8. 7 The Troll

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site! **

**I'm **_**REALLY, REALLY **_**sorry for the eternity-long update wait. I haven't had computer access for a whole week (yuck!) and school's started back up again, which means full days and lots of homework (double yuck!) For the next three weeks I'll only have the computer two days and a night per week, and that's if I'm lucky! I've also got lots of assignments too, so just bear with me. Also, I've got heaps of comments about how the last few chapters have stuck to canon. Again, I apologize profusely, but the rest of the first book will mainly be canon – but starting with book 2 I'm going to do lots of major changes. For now, you'll just have to withstand summarised, boring canon. **

**Bye (for now), **

**SapphireDragon92! **

**Chapter Seven **

**The Troll**

One-and-a-half hours and two classes later, Ron was grumbling yet again about Hermione. "She's a bloody know-it-all," was his favourite nasty comment. The class had been put into pairs to work on some new spells in Charms, and Ron had been put with Hermione (Professor Flitwick obviously couldn't see the impending danger that surrounded the two). Ron was once again disgruntled that Hermione had bested him. This time, however, Hermione had heard Ron's comment, and all that could be seen of her was her bushy hair and her hands, which had covered her face in an unsuccessful attempt to muffle her sobs.

Later that night at the Halloween feast, Hermione had not turned up for a single lesson, which was quite unlike her, nor was she at the Gryffindor table. The last that had been seen of her, Harry had heard, was when she had hurtled into the first-floor girls' bathroom.

Ginny was appalled at her older brothers' behavior towards the bushy-haired girl. Harry had had to put up with her snarling insults to Ron in his head all day, and she was still at it now.

_Horrible asshole, _she grumbled. _I'd like to see __his__ reaction if I insulted him for something he was proud of… _Her anger was so solid that _Harry_ could feel some of it himself, and had to refrain from repeating some of the insults to Ron's face.

The feast had just begun when the magnificent double doors to the Great Hall swung open rather forcefully and a voice screamed, "TROLL IN THE DUNGEONS! TROLL!" And then, quieter, "Thought you ought to know." _Thud. _

It was Professor Quirrell, and he had fainted straight after he had spoken (or screamed, rather).

Pandemonium broke out in the Hall. Professor Dumbledore had to resort to creating several purple firecrackers to get people's attention.

"All staff members go to the dungeons immediately," he said loudly. "Prefects, lead your House back to the dormitories."

Percy was, of course, downright delighted about this arrangement. "Gryffindors follow me," he announced, struggling to make his voice heard over the chatter. "Make two straight lines."

It was only when they reached the first floor that Harry remembered, for once without Ginny's help – "Hermione!" He dragged Ron off to the girls' bathroom by a handful of his robes.

Imagine their shock and horror when they found the troll smashing its way into the bathroom!

Harry and Ron rushed into the girls' bathroom without the thought that it was a _girls' _bathroom crossing their minds once. They found Hermione cowering behind one of the sinks, watching wide-eyed as the troll smashed through the wooden cubicles separating each toilet, looking for the source of the whimpering it could hear.

"Come on!" Harry told Hermione, extending an arm for her to grab. "Let's get out of here!"

Unfortunately, they weren't so lucky as to get out without the troll noticing first. Grunting and roaring, the troll swung an arm towards Harry, who only just managed to duck. Fortune wasn't smiling upon them that day, because when Harry ducked, his hand slipped from Hermione's arm.

"Harry!" she screamed as the troll made a swing for _her. _She wasn't as good at dodging as Harry was, and chose to dive behind a sink instead. The troll smashed through it easily, and water squirted her from the punctured tap.

Through the entire hubbub between the troll, Hermione and Harry, Ron stood forgotten in the corner next to all the smashed-up toilet cubicles. Lunging for the biggest piece of splintered wood, throwing it at the troll's head and yelling, "Oy, pea-brain!" Most likely the troll couldn't even _feel_ the wood as it simply bounced off its head. However, it _could_ hear Ron's yell, and so it decided to turn its attention to him rather than Harry and Hermione.

Ron cowered back against the wall, having nowhere to run. So whilst it was distracted, Harry quite rashly ran at full speed towards the huge troll, throwing himself at it and wrapping his arms around its neck.

The troll could feel him, but most likely – and _hopefully_ – didn't know what he was. Bucking Harry forward, the troll caught his ankle and dangled him upside-down in midair.

_Ginny?! _Harry half-screamed, half-asked. _What do I do?! _

But Ginny didn't answer. From what he could tell through their link, Harry figured that she was almost unconscious – the blood had rushed to her head at the same time it had done so to Harry, and Ginny wasn't taking it so well.

Not having Ginny to call upon made Harry turn to his last resort – "Ron!" he yelped. "Do something!"

And do something Ron did. Whipping out his wand, he shouted daringly, "Wingardium Leviosa!"

Normally Ron wouldn't stand a chance trying to perform this sort of magic. Being in this sort of situation brings out the best in people, however, and the club that the troll held in the hand that wasn't holding Harry was wrenched out of its hand, hanging in midair for a moment before dropping down onto the troll's head with a sickening _crack _like a gunshot.

The hand holding Harry's ankle slackened and relented, and Harry had mere moments to do something before he hit the ground. Twisting in mid-air and landing in a cat-like crouch wasn't what he had planned, but Harry didn't care what it looked like as he scrambled out of the way just in time before the knocked-out troll fell to the ground with a resounding _thud. _

There was an awkward silence. And then the awkwardness rose to a new level when the silence was broken with a, "What on _earth_ were you thinking of?"

It was McGonagall. "You could've been _killed,"_ she continued, glaring piercingly at them. "Why aren't you in your dormitories?"

Harry and Ron looked at the floor, with Ron stuttering, "We – we were," in the background, when a high voice cut into the silence.

"Please, Professor, they were looking for me."

It was Hermione. Continuing and either not noticing or ignoring Harry's and Ron's looks of incredulity, she said, "I – I went looking for the troll because – well, I thought I could deal with them, since I'd read all about them. If – if Harry and Ron hadn't come to save me, I'd probably be dead."

Harry and Ron's mouths hung open in shock. Ginny, who had obviously regained her senses, had dropped the book she had been holding back at the Burrow. Hermione Granger, the teacher's pet, _lying to one?_ It was unheard of.

Professor McGonagall stared at them all, shocked. This obviously wasn't what she had expected. Finally, gathering herself, she said, "Well, Miss Granger, if that's all you have to say for yourself, then – then five points from Gryffindor. If you're not hurt, then off you go." But when Harry and Ron moved to follow her, McGonagall stopped them.

"Five points each to Gryffindor," she told them, "and Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. Not many first-years could have taken on a twelve-foot mountain troll and lived to tell the tale. You may go."

And from that day on, Hermione became their friend.


	9. 8 Quidditch

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site.**

**Thank you again to all my reviewers and the people who put me on Story Alert and Favourites. I really appreciate reviews, so if you like the story, PLEASE review! Also, I'm really sorry for the overload of canon in this chapter, but I'm not really the sporty type and found it really hard to write Quidditch, so, well… sorry. **

**Until my next update, **

**SapphireDragon92. **

**Chapter Eight**

**Quidditch**

The day after Halloween (a Saturday) was sleety, dreary, and _wet._ This wasn't good for Harry seeing as his first Quidditch match was coming up soon and Wood was forcing the whole Gryffindor team, especially Harry, into a relentless tidal wave of practices, whether it was through rain, sun or snow.

Another downside to the upcoming Quidditch match was that Harry didn't have a broom of his own yet, and as Ginny had told him that Fred and George had said, the school brooms really _did_ vibrate if you flew 'too high' (obviously an attempt to make the matches safer – it wasn't a very good attempt though, seeing as most people had their own brooms anyway).

So it was to Harry's delight when a broom-shaped package arrived in the morning post.

"What's that?" asked Ron curiously, obviously not recognizing the package's shape.

Harry ignored his best male friend as he hastened to remove the envelope attached to the top of the parcel. Slitting it open, he unfolded the note and read:

_DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE! _

_It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want the rest of the school knowing you've got a new broomstick or they'll all want one. _

_Sincerely, _

_Professor M. McGonagall._

Ron nearly fell off his chair when Harry read out the letter in a hushed voice to his two friends. (Ginny was still asleep). _"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" _he hollered. "I wish _I _could get a Nimbus Two Thousand! Harry, that's brilliant!"

Hermione, however, gave a different view on the matter. "I do hope you'll be careful," she said worriedly. "This broomstick is supposed to be quite fast, isn't it? Make sure you don't fall off and break your neck."

Ron sniggered. "Hermione, even _McGonagall _approves of this, and she's a _teacher! _You really _do_ have to find a fault in everything, don't you?"

Hermione sniffed and looked like she was about to make a snappy retort when Harry decided to hurriedly intervene. "Let's go and see Hagrid," he said. "We can open the broomstick there, and before long the ground'll be too slushy to go."

So the three of them headed down to Hagrid's. Just as they reached the steps, however –

"That's a broomstick, that is," Malfoy drawled, pointing to the parcel in Harry's hands. "You'll get into_ loads_ of trouble, first-years aren't allowed." He looked delighted at that particular concept.

Before any of the trio could tell Malfoy the truth, he had called to the nearest teacher (Flitwick, who was passing by in the Entrance Hall), "Excuse me, Potter's got a broomstick!"

_Way to be suave, Malfoy, _thought Harry to no-one in particular, as Ginny was _still_ asleep. (Sleeping in, most probably – it _was_ a Saturday, after all).

Harry, Hermione and Ron in particular were delighted when Flitwick said, "Yes, yes, and what model is it, Potter?"

Savouring the look on Malfoy's face (he looked as though he had been slapped), Harry answered, "It's a Nimbus Two Thousand, Professor."

"_Wonderful," _Flitwick said. "Well, good luck with the match against Slytherin!" He left.

Harry grinned as Malfoy stalked off, Crabbe and Goyle seeming to appear out of nowhere as Malfoy reached the Great Hall, stuffing ketchup-slathered sausages into their mouths. "C'mon, let's go," he told Ron and Hermione, and they headed off to Hagrid's.

Ginny woke up when they were halfway there. _Whassup, _she said groggily as she awoke, peering out of his eyes. Then, more urgently –

_Is that a BROOMSTICK? _Grinning, Harry nodded and then foolishly realizing that she couldn't see him, said, _It's a Nimbus Two Thousand! _

A muffled _thump _in his head and a sharp, momentary pain in his backside told Harry that Ginny had fallen out of bed. When she seemed to have gathered herself she said, _OH MY GOD, I can't BELIEVE it! Who, what when, where, why, and how?! _She sounded astonished.

Little did Harry know, but as he began to converse with Ginny, Ron and Hermione were observing him with silent curiosity. They weren't the only ones who noticed his peculiar behaviour – all Harry's classmates noticed too. Sometimes Harry would nod seemingly absentmindedly or chuckle to himself, both for no apparent reason. Sighing, Ron and Hermione simply put it off as him being simply eccentric – there was no other 'logical' explanation, according to Hermione. How were they to know he had a soul bond with Ron's sister?

By the time Harry and Ginny had finished their conversation, he, Ron and Hermione had arrived at Hagrid's. Hagrid, of course, looked delighted by their unexpected visit. Ushering them in out of the cold, Hagrid appeared to be simply bursting to show them his new 'pet.'

"Hagrid, is that – is that a _dragon egg?" _It was Ron who recognized the strange black egg first, before even Hermione, to their surprise.

"Charlie – my brother – works with dragons," Ron explained quickly, looking disgruntled at their obvious incredulity. "But really, _is it?"_

"Yep – bought him off a Greek chappie I met at the Hog's Head in Hogsmeade – I've bin lookin' at some books 'bout 'em, an' this one I've got here's a Norwegian Ridgeback." He looked forlornly at the egg, which sat in a pot over the fire.

Hoping to distract Hagrid from the egg for at least five seconds, Harry said hastily, "Look at what I got in the mail, Hagrid!" and grabbed the still-wrapped broom, passing it over to Hagrid.

Hagrid grinned as he read the letter. "Ah, jus' like yer father," he said. "He was a Chaser in his day. Bes' on his team."

Harry smiled proudly as he ripped open the parcel. He didn't know much about broomsticks, but this one was magnificent compared to the school brooms. Sleek, shiny and polished, its handle was embossed with _'Nimbus Two Thousand' _writtenin fancy gold script.

Ron moaned enviously for about the fifty millionth time, Ginny gasped both in and out of their mind connection, and even Hermione looked impressed. Harry grinned in delight as he hefted the broom, which was feather-light. On this, he just might have a chance in the upcoming Quidditch match.

The day of Harry's first Quidditch match was sunny but cold. Harry was exceedingly nervous, especially because the book he had been studying in order to obtain good tactics, _'Quidditch Through the Ages', _had been confiscated due to a made-up rule, courtesy of 'the slimy git'. Harry had also seen Snape showing Filch a bloody and mangled leg when he had gone to the staff room with the hope that Snape might give his book back. Snape had been saying, 'Bloody stupid dog,' and Harry was desperate to know who the 'bloody stupid dog' was.

However, Harry had no time to worry about neither bloody stupid dogs nor slimy gits as he walked out onto the pitch. The sun beat down on the smooth-as-silk, perfectly green and so-hard-it's-almost-springy pitch, and it was a cold, say-hello-to autumn type of day – perfect conditions for a Quidditch match, as Wood said, but nothing as mundane as the weather could distract Harry from his churning stomach.

The crowd cheered as the two teams strolled down to where Madam Hooch, who was refereeing, stood in the middle of the pitch. "I want a nice, clean game," she said icily. "From all of you." She seemed to be looking directly at the Slytherins as she spoke. After Wood and the Slytherin captain, Flint (who looked like he had some troll blood in him, according to Ginny) shook hands, Madam Hooch said, "Mount your brooms, please." They all clambered onto their different brooms and Madam Hooch blew on her whistle –

"And they're off!" yelled a voice that Harry vaguely recognized, one that seemed to be magnified so all players and spectators alike could hear it – Harry glanced up to some sort of podium to see Lee Jordan, a friend of Fred and George's, bellowing into some sort of a magical microphone – he appeared to be commentating. "And the Quaffle is seized by Angelina Johnson, Gryffindor Chaser, she's an excellent player, and rather attractive too, I've been saying that for years but she still won't go out with me – "

Lee was interrupted by a cry of "JORDAN!" that appeared to come from Professor McGonagall, who was sitting next to him in the commentator's podium, apparently to stop him from making crude comments like that one – stifling a snort, Harry wheeled his Nimbus to the top of the pitch, higher even than the stadiums and the goalposts – Wood had told him to stay clear of the game and therefore any unnecessary damage before he saw the Golden Snitch.

"And Johnson passes the Quaffle to Alicia Spinnet of Gryffindor, Spinnet passes back to Johnson and – oh no, Slytherin have got the Quaffle, Flint belting along there – he's going to score – no, saved by Gryffindor captain Wood, and Wood passes to Gryffindor chaser Katie Bell – Bell's got the Quaffle and is racing along the pitch and – OUCH, hit on the back of the head by a Bludger, and Slytherin takes the Quaffle, Adrian Pucey is shooting back towards Wood, and – OH, nice Bludger there, hit by Fred or George Weasley, can't tell which – anyway, Johnson's caught the dropped Quaffle and off she goes – YES! GRYFFINDOR SCORE! It's ten-nil to Gryffindor!"

Harry did a loop-the-loop then to let out his feelings before returning his attention to watching out for the Snitch. He could see Hagrid in the stands, near Ron and Hermione – well, near a flash of red and brown, anyway – but so far there was no sign of the Snitch.

Slytherin were just in possession of the Quaffle when Harry saw it – a flash of gold, right next to Adrian Pucey's ear. He dived, a rush of adrenaline accelerating his speed even more –

Terence Higgs, the Slytherin Seeker, had seen it too. Neck and neck, the two hurtled towards the tiny, fluttering ball and, with the screams of the commentator ringing in his ears, Harry made a great swipe for the Snitch –

_Harry, look out! _Ginny screamed as – WHAM – Flint had knocked Harry's broom off course, and now he was spinning towards the stadium. Gryffindor was given a penalty to which Alicia Spinnet scored easily, but in all the confusion and downright pandemonium the Snitch had disappeared.

It was just after Slytherin scored that it happened. Harry's broom began to jolt and buck, shaking so hard that Harry had to hold on for dear life. Clamping onto it tightly, Harry struggled to stay on the broomstick.

Soon, the whole stadium, plus all the players, was staring at Harry in alarm. Even Lee Jordan was silent, and the Weasley twins were now circling the air five feet below Harry to catch him should he fall.

Suddenly, the broom gave a frightening lurch that Harry was unprepared for, and he flew off his Nimbus, now holding on for dear life. The sound of gasps and the sight of Fred and George tightening the circle that they rotated in underneath him were not altogether reassuring to Harry as he struggled to reach up and grasp his broomstick with his other hand.

Back in the stadium, Ron, Hermione and Hagrid were looking grey-faced as they stared at their falling friend when suddenly; Hermione had an idea, as ideas often come to you in times of crisis. Seizing the pair of binoculars that Hagrid was peering at Harry through, she turned to look not at her messy-haired friend but instead at the section of the stadium reserved for teachers and Quidditch-players' parents.

Sure enough, just as she had suspected, Snape was staring straight at Harry, his mouth moving subtly and his eyes not being taken off of the dangling boy.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron as she stood up and began her laborious task. Hermione ignored him as she struggled over peoples' laps and rushed through aisles and up staircases, rushing towards the teachers' podium.

Hermione didn't even stop to say sorry as she knocked Quirrell over once she arrived at the teachers' podium. Running straight past him, she ducked behind a chair and pointed her wand straight at Snape's robes.

Her spell was a clever one – bright blue flames shot out of her wand, setting dire to the hem of Snape's robes. Triumphant, she hurried off to return to her seat between Ron and Hagrid.

Harry missed hearing the game's final score as his two friends rushed him to Hagrid's hut for a cup of strong tea – all he knew was that Gryffindor had won due to his very odd way of catching the Snitch – in his mouth. As he sipped the tea contentedly, Hermione recounted what she had done to Snape.

"I'm tellin' yeh, Snape wouldn't've jinxed the broom!" Hagrid kept on insisting. "Dumbledore _trusts_ him – he trusts him well enough to give him a hand in protecting the Stone after Fluffy -"

But suddenly he fell silent. And Harry, Ron and Hermione knew that he had just said something he wasn't supposed to say.

"What's Fluffy, Hagrid?" asked Harry cautiously.

"I shouldn't've said that," said Hagrid. "I should _not_ have said that."

But Harry was wondering…

"Is Fluffy a dog, Hagrid?" he asked. Hagrid's look of shock was enough answer. And Harry was remembering, too – _Bloody stupid dog, _he said to Ginny.

_But that's not all, _Ginny added. _Snape wasn't the only one behaving strangely in the teacher's podium. _

Harry was silent, waiting for her to continue.

_Quirrell was too, _she said grimly. _And Hermione said she knocked him over. _

It looked like there were two candidates for the 'who's after the mysterious Stone' contest.


	10. 9 Fluffy and the Philosopher's Stone

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site. **

**Thank you to all my reviewers, and again, sorry for the endless canon. **

**SapphireDragon92. **

**Chapter Nine**

**Fluffy and the Philosopher's Stone**

The next few weeks rushed by in a blur for Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was hard to find time to do _anything, _let alone research some kind of Stone and sneak onto the third floor corridor to find out anything about this Fluffy.

It wasn't until three weeks and one day precisely after the Quidditch match that they had the time to do anything, but as the rest of the third floor was swamped with people and there was now way of sneaking into the corridor, they were resigned to researching about the Stone – but as they had nothing to go by on, they weren't very successful.

"This is ridiculous," said Hermione as she slammed the book she had been reading shut. "We're _never_ going to find this!"

"I know," Ron moaned. "We don't even know what this 'Stone' is – it could be anything!"

Harry stayed quiet for a few moments before saying, "I say we go to the third floor corridor tonight."

Ron and Hermione's reactions were both very different, as always; Ron seemed delighted that this was what Harry wanted to do, whereas Hermione instantly replied, "Harry, we can't. We'll get caught for sure."

"Well, we have to go there sometime, and there'll be just as much chance that we'll get caught then! What's the point in putting things off?" Harry said reasonably.

"I - I _suppose…" _said Hermione doubtfully, trailing off. She obviously didn't seem too keen, but as Ron pointed out, "It's two against one. Besides, Harry's right. You're the one who tells us not to procrastinate with our homework, so what's the difference?"

Hermione threw him a dirty, contemptuous look as the trio headed back to the common room.

It was close to eleven when the trio set off to go to the third floor corridor. They had decided to leave this late because they would have less of a chance of getting caught had they left earlier.

It was incredibly difficult, this sneaking-around-in-the-dark thing. They had to duck behind a suit of armour or a tapestry whenever they heard footsteps or a meow (Mrs. Norris, Filch's horrid cat). They also had to leap from shadow to shadow in order to stay as well-hidden as they could. However, they were only half-satisfied when they finally reached the door to their destination. Wondering how on earth a _dog_ could have caused Snape's horribly mangled leg, the trio turned the doorknob carefully.

"It's locked!" Ron half-whispered, half-moaned.

"Well, what did you expect?" Hermione asked haughtily. "Move… please."

Harry and Ron hastily moved out of her way; it wasn't often that Hermione said 'please'. _Maybe it's some sort of way of keeping quiet – she obviously wants to avoid arguments, _Harry thought to no-one in particular, as Ginny was asleep. _And so I should be too, _thought Harry. _What __on earth was I __thinking? _

"Alohomora," Hermione whispered. The lock clicked open, and in response to her friends' stares she explained quickly, "It's in _'The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1.'" _She then turned back to the door, grasped the doorknob firmly, turned it and –

And straight away, the trio realized how Fluffy, a _dog,_ had mangled Snape's leg - Fluffy was a lot more than just a dog.

The three friends stared in horror as Fluffy – all three heads, six mad yellow eyes, and three monstrous, fang-filled mouths of him – reared up at them, growling thunderously.

Coming to see Fluffy hadn't been Harry's best idea in the world.

"RUN!" screamed all three of them in unison.

Turning around, the three of them grappled with the doorknob, struggled out the door, and began running down the hallway outside the door at full speed.

Unfortunately, in their haste to get back to the common room, Harry, Ron and Hermione forgot to do their whole leaping-into-shadows routine, and ran straight into –

Peeves the prank-loving poltergeist. "Ooh, ickle firsties!" he said in an annoying sing-song voice. "Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty – I should tell Filch, I should." He cackled obstinately.

"No, please don't, please don't tell, Peeves –"

"Get out of our way!" snapped Ron, still white-faced and clearly not in his right mind from their encounter with Fluffy – because who in their right mind would try to _swipe _atPeeves? It was quite clear that that wasn't what one should do when they didn't want Peeves to tell on them.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE SEVENTH FLOOR CORRIDOR!" screamed Peeves.

The trio had nothing to do but run – however, luck seemed to be on their side, because they managed to both find an unused classroom to hide in, _and _the one who came when Peeves called was Filch.

Peeves didn't like Filch.

"Where are the students out of bed?" wheezed Filch. "Quick, tell me which way they went."

"Say 'please!'" sang Peeves.

"Quit messing around and _tell me where they went!"_ Filch screeched. _Big_ mistake on his part.

"Shan't say nothing if you don't say please!" Peeves said pointedly.

"All right – please."

"NOTHING! Ha-haaaaaa! Told you I wouldn't say nothing if you didn't say please!" And with that, Peeves whizzed off.

Filch, whom Harry would have liked to have been able to see the expression on his face right then of, could be heard stomping off and cursing 'that bloody horrible poltergeist.'

It was with relief – pure, utter relief – that the trio hurried into the Gryffindor tower and stumbled into bed.

Harry and Ron were looking forward to a nice big breakfast the next morning, but their hopes were sadly delayed by a distraction in the form of Hermione. She rushed down the girls' stairs at full speed, knocking the two boys into an armchair as she went.

"Look!" she shrieked as she shoved a large, moth-eaten book in their faces. "Look at this!"

And she flipped to a page which read:

_**The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with the making of the Philosophers' Stone. **_


	11. 10 The Mirror of Erised

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site.**

**Chapter Ten**

**The Mirror of Erised**

The rest of the term sped by in a rush, and before Harry knew it it was the Christmas holidays. Unfortunately, Ginny had been unsuccessful in trying to convince Mrs. Weasley to let Harry come over there for the Christmas holidays, as the two of them, along with Mr. Weasley, were going to Romania over Christmas to visit Ginny's (and Ron's) brother Charlie.

Thankfully, Ron wasn't going to the Burrow either, so Harry would at least have a friend still at Hogwarts (Hermione was going home to visit her Muggle parents).

Harry, Ron and Hermione (and Ginny too) had all been incredibly excited when they had discovered what this mysterious 'Stone' could be. They were, however, very disappointed to discover that they had no proof that this 'Stone' was _the_ 'Stone'. Though it fit the puzzle (it would be something very suitable for someone to be after – it could turn all metal into gold and produced the Elixir of Life, which made the drinker immortal) there was simply nothing that could prove their theory.

Harry's Christmas at Hogwarts was his best Christmas by far. For one thing, he actually had –

"PRESENTS!"

Harry awoke groggily to the sight of Ron sitting gleefully at the end of the latter's bed, eagerly surveying the pile of presents at its foot.

"_Finally,_ you're up!" he said.

Harry then turned to see – to his shock – a whole _pile _of presents at the end of his bed!

"I've – I've got _presents!" _he said gleefully.

Ron looked at him oddly. "Yeah, 'course you do!" he said. "What'd you expect, dragon dung?" He snorted. "Well, open them, then!" He then proceeded to open his own pile of presents.

Taking his first present hesitantly from the pile, Harry glanced at it to see that it was wrapped in plain brown paper and was, according to the messy scrawl on the front, from Hagrid. Inside was an odd-looking flute that appeared to have been whittled by Hagrid himself.

The next present – If you could call it a present – was merely a note which read; _We received notification that you are staying at your school and enclose your Christmas present. From Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon._ A fifty pence piece was taped to the back of the note.

His next few presents included Chocolate Frogs from Hermione, fudge and an emerald-green woolen jumper from Mrs. Weasley, and a thin golden chain with a lightning-bolt hanging off the end from Ginny. It was the last present, however, which intrigued him the most.

The present was some kind of a fluid, watery-feeling silvery-grey cloak. "Hey, Ron, look at this!" he said. Ron, who had been about to open a suspicious-looking orange-wrapped package from Fred and George, turned to him and gasped –

"Harry, I think that's an Invisibility Cloak!"

"A what?" asked Harry automatically and rather stupidly. He did, however, get the gist of what his friend was saying, and stood up immediately to wrap the cloak around his body, leaving his head exposed and rushing to the mirror.

His body was gone! It didn't even seem transparent – he could literally look right through it, and his head looked like it was suspended in midair! Hastily he pulled the hood of the cloak over his head and stared as he vanished completely from sight.

"A note fell out of it, look!" said Ron, plucking the aforementioned note from the ground which, if that was possible, confused Harry even more, as it read; _Your father gave this to me before he died. It is time for it to be returned to you. Use it well. _The note was not signed.

After acting the audience to a very amusing display courtesy of Fred and George and involving Percy and his Prefect badge, Harry enjoyed the best Christmas lunch he had ever had. However, this wasn't the thing that made this particular Christmas the oddest Christmas Harry had ever had.

That night, he headed out to look around the school. He was properly alone for the first time in a while, and found that quite odd in itself. Generally he had Ginny's warm, comforting presence in his mind, but right now she was asleep. And whenever Ginny wasn't there, he always had others nearby, but tonight the corridors of Hogwarts were eerily empty. And it was then, when he was wandering around innocently (or at least, as innocently as you could get when sneaking around after curfew) that he found what made this Christmas so odd.

It was a mirror. Left in an unused classroom and towering over the other boxes of inordinate knick-knacks that seemed to have no apparent use, the mirror didn't just stand out because of its size. Its ornate golden frame and elegantly clawed feet helped, too, but the thing that really set this mirror apart from the rest was the inscription at the top. _Erised stra ehu oyt ube cafru oyt wohsi. _What was that, some kind of foreign language?

And in a flash, it came to him. Although Ginny was still asleep, his mind was still sharpened by its link to hers, and that was how he figured out something he never would have figured out otherwise – the mirror's inscription really read; _I show not your face but your hearts' desire. _It was written backwards!

Wondering fervently what his hearts' desire was, Harry stepped in front of the mirror to see –

It was like a shuttle camera! Images flitted over the mirror's shiny surface slowly enough for Harry to make out what they contained, but fast enough to stop him from dwelling on them too long.

The first image was of a man who looked startlingly like an older version of Harry, his arm around a woman with fiery red hair and startlingly green eyes. The woman had an arm around the man too, but her other arm was supporting a baby with the messy black hair of the man and the gleaming green eyes of the woman.

It was Harry as a baby with his mum and dad.

Just as tears began to form in his eyes, the image changed. Or did it? The picture seemed to be exactly the same, but if you looked closer, there were some minor differences. The man in this picture wasn't James – this man had green eyes. _This_ man really _was_ an older version of Harry!

The woman was different too. Her hair was longer and a lighter shade of red, and her eyes were brown. She was also shorter than Lily, and the baby she was holding had brown eyes.

Harry gave a start when he realized who the woman was supposed to be – Ginny!

Now Harry was _really_ glad Ginny was asleep. Him and Ginny with a _baby_ – perhaps even _married?_ – was supposed to be his hearts' desire? It was a confused Harry that returned to the first-year boys' dorm that night.


	12. 11 Norbert

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site. **

**Chapter Eleven**

**Norbert**

Boxing Day was a difficult day for Harry. He wanted nothing more than to try and figure out why he saw Ginny in the mirror, but didn't want Ginny to know about the deepest desire of his heart, either. He had to struggle not to let the image of the older forms of himself and Ginny with a baby not to pop into his head.

Harry didn't return to the mirror again, either. Nor did he show it to Ron – what if the latter discovered what was in the mirror for Harry? He seriously doubted that Ron would be too enthusiastic about Harry's wish involving his younger sister.

The remaining days of the Christmas holidays passed quite quickly. Soon, Hermione was back, not to mention classes and homework too. It was on the way to one of the classes, and the last for that particular day (Herbology) that the trio received the note.

_You-know what is hatching. Come down as soon as you can. _It was from Hagrid. 

"What the hell is you-know-what?" asked Ron, who had clearly forgotten about the dragon egg in Hagrid's fire.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione answered Ron's question, albeit after a bickering-inducing comment. Harry laughed at his friends' antics and followed them to the greenhouses.

After a boring and tedious class which even Hermione seemed itching to leave, the three friends rushed down to Hagrid's as fast as they could. The dragon egg lay on the table, deep cracks running across its surface, and a funny tapping noise was emitting from inside it. Harry, Ron and Hermione clambered eagerly into three of the four seats surrounding the table where the egg was hatching.

All of a sudden, just when the trio and Hagrid had settled into their respective seats, the egg split open with a loud _crack. _

The dragon that emerged was rather odd-looking, and in Harry's opinion resembled a small, crumpled umbrella. It was black, with a skinny body, wings twice its size _each_ and bulging orange eyes coupled with a long, wide-nostriled snout.

"Isn't he jus' _beau'iful," _murmured Hagrid. "A Norwegian Ridgeback – I recognize it from some pictures. I'm gonna name 'im… how about Norbert?"

Norbert stumbled over to Hagrid and sneezed directly into his beard. A few sparks flew out and set the scraggly black beard aflame, but Hagrid didn't even see fazed as he swatted out the sparks. "Oh, bless him, he knows 'is Mummy," Hagrid said.

_He knows his Mummy indeed, _said Ginny.

No matter how much they tried, Harry, Ron and Hermione couldn't seem to convince Hagrid to let Norbert out into the wild. Soon he had tripled in size, and not even Malfoy seeing Norbert through the window could change his mind, despite how much it clearly unsettled the other three. It was when the trio were watching Hagrid feed Norbert chicken blood from a baby's bottle and struggling not to giggle at Norbert's razor-sharp fangs piercing the rubber teat that Ginny had a brainstorm.

_Harry! _She squealed into his mind. _Charlie! Send Norbert to Romania with him, that way Hagrid won't have the excuse that Norbert'll die in the wild! _

After much coaxing and careful flattery, Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to convince Hagrid to let them ask Charlie if he could take Norbert. Thankfully, several days after they sent a letter out to him, they received a reply. At midnight the next Saturday, he would send a few of his friends on broomsticks to the topmost tower to collect him.

Unfortunately, they figured out that if they carried Norbert in a crate, only two of them would be able to fit under the Invisibility Cloak – it was a tight squeeze as it was. Again unfortunately, their decision of who was to stay and who was to go was made for them, and not in a good way. One time while visiting Hagrid and Norbert, the aforementioned anything-but-cute dragon bit Ron on the hand, and the bite mark looked poisonous.

Thankfully, Madam Pomfrey seemed to accept (though grudgingly) the lie that a stray dog was the one to bite Ron, but he was forced to stay in the hospital wing for two nights – and the second one of those nights was the Saturday that they had to take Norbert up to the Astronomy tower.

Bad luck _always_ comes in threes – Harry, Ron and Hermione discovered this, though against their will, when Malfoy came to 'visit' Ron and insisted to Madam Pomfrey that he needed to borrow one of Ron's school books. _Why _did Madam Pomfrey just _have _to be in a gullible mood that day? She believed the scheming rat, but that wasn't the worst thing. The book he wanted just _happened _to have the letter with Charlie's reply tucked in between the pages!

"It's too late to change it now," Hermione said with a sigh. "We'll just have to risk it."

"Who are you and what've you done to Hermione Granger?" asked Ron.

Norbert was packed and ready when Harry and Hermione arrived at Hagrid's at eleven o'clock precisely that Saturday night. The walls of the crate he was in had several tiny airholes in them, which were too small to see through. You could hear inside the crate, however, and some funny ripping noises were emitting from the box.

Hagrid was quite an odd sight – a man that big with teary eyes and a choked-up voice wasn't something you saw every day. "I've packed 'im lots of brandy an' chicken bones for the journey," he said tearfully. "An' his teddy bear too in case he gets lonely."

_Sounds like teddy's getting his head ripped off, _Ginny commented – she had stayed up extra-late to see what happened with Norbert first-hand. Harry bit back a laugh at her comment as he and Hermione draped the Cloak carefully over Norbert's crate and stepped underneath it.

"Mummy will never forget you!" Hagrid sobbed after them as they departed.

It was a lot harder than you'd think, trying to stay hidden by a cloak and lugging a heavy crate up moving staircases. It was five minutes to midnight – it had taken fifty-five minutes to lug Norbert up all those stairs, and they still had the steep, winding and narrow staircase up to the top of the Astronomy tower to go.

Just as they were beginning to climb, an incredibly stimulating sight fell upon Harry's and Hermione's eyes. McGonagall, dragging Malfoy by the ear!

Harry and Hermione both shrank into the shadows immediately as they watched, wide-eyed, as McGonagall yelled, "Twenty points from Slytherin, and a detention too! How _dare_ you go about making false accusations and sneaking around past curfew!" Ignoring Malfoy's whimpers, stutters and 'buts,' she continued to drag him along the corridor.

Harry and Hermione bounced up the stairs with renewed heart, throwing off the cloak as soon as they reached the top. Charlie's friends were already there, and found it incredibly funny that they had just unintentionally gotten their archenemy in detention. They were cheerful and friendly, and seemed to have no qualms about the odd arrangement they had been roped into. Harry and Hermione heaved Norbert into the leather harness the boys had rigged up to support Norbert between them, and watched with glee as they, and Norbert with them, disappeared into the night.

Just as they were about to descend the stairs, Ginny cried suddenly, _Don't forget the Cloak! _It was a good thing too – they almost had, and Filch was at the bottom of the stairs! Sneaking past the cranky old caretaker, Harry and Hermione headed off to bed with their hearts as light as their hands.


	13. 12 Snape or Quirrell?

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site. **

**Chapter Twelve**

**Snape or Quirrell?**

The next few weeks passed in a flash for Harry, Ron and Hermione. Ron had been delighted to find that Malfoy had gotten a detention, and even more delighted to discover that his detention had been in the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid had been the one to take him in, and reported that Malfoy hadn't been quite so brave amongst, to quote him, 'w-werewolves and c-centaurs!' On a darker note, Hagrid also informed them of a strange being in the forest that night, and had also let slip that it had drunk unicorn blood – and Hermione had then realized that drinking unicorn blood would, in her words, 'sustain your life even at the brink of death, while condemning you to a cursed half-life.

It was the afternoon after the exams, in which Harry felt unusually confident about seeing as Ginny had helped him, looking up all the answers he needed in the middle of each test, that Harry realized it. "That Philosopher's Stone, it said in your book, Hermione, that it made the Elixir of Life! Someone who drank unicorn blood would probably be after a Philosopher's Stone, wouldn't they? It all fits!" Without waiting for a reply, Harry bolted off towards Hagrid's.

"Hagrid, who'd you get that dragon egg off of?" he panted as soon as he got there, bending over and putting his hands on his knees.

Hagrid, who looked quite startled by Harry's sudden appearance, answered, "I got it off a bloke I met down at the pub – you know, the Hog's Head."

"What did he look like?" Harry rushed on as a bewildered Ron and Hermione appeared from chasing him.

"I dunno, 'e kept 'is cloak on an' 'is hood up," said Hagrid, still bemused-looking.

Harry exchanged looks with Ron and Hermione, who finally seemed to catch on. Without waiting for a reply from Hagrid, the trio raced back up the hill towards Hogwarts.

They were just bolting past the greenhouses when Harry skidded to a halt and bent over double; his scar was hurting, and it was hurting a lot!

"Ouch!" he said, rubbing his forehead.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Hermione, concerned.

"It's my scar, it's really hurting."

"Has it ever hurt before like this, mate?" Ron asked.

"No, not like this… but it did twinge a bit the night Malfoy had his detention," Harry answered.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. "Come on, we've got to see Dumbledore," said Hermione. "We can ask him what it means."

Together the three of them raced into the castle. Just as Harry realized that they had no idea where Dumbledore might be, a voice rang out across the Entrance Hall: "What are you doing indoors?"

It was McGonagall, a pile of books tucked under her arm and a stern expression on her face.

"We – we need to see Professor Dumbledore," Harry said hesitantly.

McGonagall glared at them suspiciously. "See Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, as though it was an unsuitable request. "I'm sure anything you would want to say to Professor Dumbledore can be said to me. What is it?"

"We – we, um, we think that someone might – might want to steal the Philosopher's Stone," Harry stuttered.

The books McGonagall was holding tumbled out of her arms. Once she regained her composure, she snapped, "Well, I can assure you that the Stone is _very_ well protected. You need not worry. And Professor Dumbledore is not here at the school at the moment. He got a very important and urgent call from the Ministry." Her lips were thin, white, and pressed tightly together, not to mention her nostrils were flared – signs that she would not be any further convinced. Dejected, the trio wandered back outside, standing well away from the other students.

"Tonight," Harry muttered to Ron and Hermione. "Whoever or whatever that thing in the forest was, it's bound to go after the Stone with Dumbledore gone. I say we try and get to it first."

Later that night, when all the rest of the students had dispersed from the common room, Harry, Ron and Hermione stood ready in the middle of the room, the Invisibility Cloak tucked inside Harry's robes. Sneaking through the portrait hole, the threesome quickly ducked into the shadow of a nearby suit of armour and threw the Cloak hastily over themselves – they couldn't get through the portrait hole invisible, so they had to put it on outside. Harry had also brought the flute Hagrid had given him for Christmas – their large friend had let slip the teensy-weensy detail that you needed music to get past Fluffy.

Sneaking down the corridors and ever-shifting staircases, Harry, Ron and Hermione were on incredible edge. Every suit of armour looked like Filch, every distant breath of wind sounded like Peeves. When they finally reached the door to the third-floor corridor, they saw that it was ajar. Nervously creeping in, the three of them grouped around Fluffy, who sniffed around confusedly – he could smell them.

"Start playing, Harry," Ron whispered nervously. Harry put the flute to his lips and blew, awkwardly beginning to play the first tune that came to his head.

Fluffy's eyelids drooped from the first note. Soon enough, the humongous beast was fast asleep.

"Come on," muttered Hermione, pulling the Cloak off. "Let's go." She stepped over one of Fluffy's sprawled-out legs and pulled up the trapdoor, bending over it.

"It's a long drop," said Ron. "There's no ladder or anything, we're just going to have to jump. Who's going first?"

Harry, who was still playing the flute, waved his arms at himself.

"You sure?" Ron asked Harry, who nodded. "Alright, give the flute to Hermione then."

Harry passed the flute over as quickly as he could so as not to wake Fluffy up and, before he could work himself up, leapt through the hole. Down, down, down he dropped until…

_Flump. _Harry landed on some kind of soft, squishy surface, which felt sort of like a plant. "It's all right, you can jump!" he called up.

Ron and Hermione soon joined him. It wasn't until they did that he – or Ginny, rather – noticed it. (Ginny had insisted on staying up).

The plant was winding itself around their legs!

Hermione, who had been the last to land, managed to struggle to the edge of the plant and onto a ledge at the side, which led to a door. Harry and Ron, however, were both tightly bound to the plant's surface.

"What is it?" gasped Harry and Ron simultaneously.

"It's – it's Devil's Snare!" gasped Hermione. "I've read about it somewhere – but how do you kill it?" She looked panicked. "It – it likes the dark and the damp, so… so light a fire!" She whipped out her wand and pointed it at the Devil's Snare, whispering a hasty spell. Blue flames erupted from her wand, slashing at the tendrils of green wound around the two boys' legs, allowing them to stumble beside her to the ledge. Together, the threesome leapt towards the next door and flung it open.

"_Birds?" _asked Ron. "What the hell?"

The room appeared to be filled with hundreds of birds flying through the air – but there was something odd about them… they were too skinny and spindly, and they glittered as they soared through the air…

"They're not birds!" Harry realized aloud. "They're _keys!"_ He glanced around the room. "Look!" he said, pointing. "Broomsticks! We've got to catch the key to the door!"

After a long struggle, they managed to catch the right key – the only silver one – and slammed through that door, too. The next room was the spitting image of a giant chess set, the black pieces on their side of the chessboard.

"We've got to play our way across the board!" Ron announced, for once the first to figure something out.

Ron was in his element. "Hermione, you replace that castle," he ordered, taking the lead. "Harry, you replace that bishop over there. I'll be a knight."

The chess game was the most difficult obstacle yet – not to mention the most tedious one. However, they soon began to take the lead over the white pieces – but there was a catch.

"They've got to take me for us to win," a white-faced Ron said hollowly.

"No, you can't! There's got to be another way!" Hermione screeched, paling too.

"I've got to," said Ron with grim determination. "Then you'll be free to check the king, Harry." Harry shook his head, but Ron didn't listen. He strode forward and then to the side, and –

_Thump. _Ron fell to the floor with a thud. Hermione was about to run to him when Harry said, "No. Stay there." He took two shaky steps forward, facing the stone-faced white king head on and saying, "Checkmate." The king fell to the floor at Harry's feet.

Only then did Harry and Hermione race to Ron's side. "Ron!" Hermione yelled desperately.

It was no use. Ron was out cold. Ginny whimpered in Harry's head, worried for her brother. "We'll have to go on," Harry said to Hermione, trying to steady his voice. She just nodded helplessly.

The next room was a lot smaller than the other three, with a door at one end and a small shelf of potions in the middle. Harry and Hermione stepped hesitantly into the room and –

Flames erupted in front and behind them, stretching from wall to wall. The flames behind them were purple, and the flames in front of them were black.

Hermione stepped cautiously forward to the shelf of potions and picked up a small white note from the shelf, appearing to read something written on it.

"It's a logic puzzle!" she announced gleefully. "I can figure this out, hang on…" She began muttering to herself.

Finally, she announced, "I know!"

"What?" asked Harry curiously.

"This one," said Hermione, plucking a bottle from the shelf, "will allow you to walk safely through the purple flames without harm. And _this_ one," she plucked another bottle off the shelf, "will let you walk through the black flames safely and without harm." She smiled triumphantly.

Harry looked in the bottle she had said would take you through to the next room and said dubiously, "There's only enough for one of us in here."

The two of them looked at each other. "You go," said Hermione resignedly.

Harry nodded and accepted the bottle as she passed it to him.

"Well, here goes," Hermione said before tipping up the bottle into her mouth.

"Now, go and get Ron, and fly up past the Devil's Snare with brooms from the flying-key room and send a note to Dumbledore at the Owlery. Hurry!"

Hermione nodded and, taking a deep breath, walked straight through the purple fire.

Harry glanced down at the tiny bottle in his hands. Staring at it, he finally took a small sip and shuddered. It tasted like ice!

Before he could change his mind and get stuck here, Harry walked head-on into the flames.

_Who is it, Harry? Is it Snape or Quirrell? _Ginny asked.

"It's…"


	14. 13 Voldemort

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site. **

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Voldemort**

Quirrell. He turned as soon as Harry entered the room, smiling an ugly, twisted smile. "Ah, Harry," he said. "I thought you might be here. Are you surprised it was me?"

Harry shuddered – Quirrell's tone was cold and sharp, without even the faintest tremble. "Not really," he answered finally, after he got over the initial shock of Quirrell's voice change.

Quirrell's face seemed to twist even more, if that was possible. "Lies!" he said. "How'd you guess?"

"At the Quidditch match," Harry said, fighting to steady his own voice. "Hermione said she knocked you over before casting that spell on Snape."

Quirrell sneered. "Yes, your little friend broke my eye contact," he snapped. "You would've been off your broom long before that if it hadn't've been for Snape muttering his little counter-curse." He looked livid as he mentioned the name, but then seemed to brighten – that in itself was a horrid sight. "But then, it was very useful. Next to Snape, who would suspect _me?"_

Quirrell then turned away again, and Harry realized with a jolt what was behind him – the Mirror of Erised!

_What's the Mirror of Erised? _Ginny asked.

_It's this mirror – it shows you what you want most in the world – hang on, the Stone must be inside it! Quirrell wants it more than anything else at the moment, so he'll see the Stone! _Harry half-answered, half-realized. Meanwhile, as he was figuring this out, Quirrell had been muttering to himself. And then –

"To get the Stone… Use the boy…" uttered the most terrible voice Harry had ever heard in his whole life. Or had he…?

"Boy!" snapped Quirrell. "Get over here! Look in the mirror and tell me what you see!" And Harry felt his feet moving against his will, carrying him towards the mirror. He stood in front of it, legs trembling, and saw…

The Stone! There he was, reflected in the glass, his reflection's hand putting the Stone into his pocket – and suddenly, a _real weight _fell into his pocket! He had the Stone!

"Now, what do you see?" demanded Quirrell.

_You'll have to lie, _Ginny warned.

_I know, _Harry answered, then said aloud, "I… I see myself holding the House Cup. I've won it for Gryffindor."

For a moment it looked like Quirrell believed him… but then that high, cold voice issued from… from his turban? "He lies…"

Flames erupted suddenly all around the room, trapping Harry. Quirrell smiled nastily and said, "You've got the Stone, haven't you?" Harry shook his head vehemently, but in vain.

"Let me see him…" said that terrible voice.

"Master, you are not strong enough," Quirrell insisted.

"I am strong… enough… for this…" the voice said.

Quirrell nodded, and then turned. He began to unwind the turban on his head, slowly, carefully. And then…

The most horrible, twisted grey face that Harry had ever seen stared out at Harry with slitlike red eyes. It opened its mouth and said, "Harry Potter… you see what I have become?"

It was Voldemort. There was no doubt about it.

Harry gasped without making a sound, swallowing hard. "Kill him!" Voldemort ordered.

Harry broke into a run, but there was nowhere to run to. Cornered against a wall of hissing and spitting flame, he felt Quirrell's hands close around his neck…

And all of a sudden, those hands withdrew, blistering and red raw. Quirrell couldn't touch his bare skin!

"With a curse, with a curse!" gasped Voldemort. Quirrell withdrew his wand and pointed it straight between Harry's eyes, but on instinct, Harry lurched forward and seized Quirrell's head…

It was painful, and Harry felt that his scar would burst open from the effort, but he held on desperately, watching Quirrell's skin burn away before his eyes…

And then everything went black.

Molly Weasley had never been more scared in her life. She had been lying in her bed, watching the clock tick to midnight and waiting for her overworked husband to come home from Merlin only knows how many raids, when she heard a sudden, unexpected scream coming from her only daughter's room.

She had then rushed straight down there, only to see, to her shock and horror, her daughter lying on the floor and convulsing terribly, clutching her head. She had run straight to the fireplace and, in her haste, grabbed _way _to much Floo powder, but Dumbledore's office was empty. She hadn't even been this frightened when she had found her youngest and only girl unconscious in the woods with Harry Potter… her daughter was clearly in pain. Not knowing what to do and having tried every healing spell she knew of, Molly simply stared with wide, tear-filled eyes as her daughter gave a great, shuddering gasp and went limp, hands still on her forehead.


	15. Epilogue

Disclaimer: If I were J

**Disclaimer: If I were J.K. Rowling, this story would be published, not on a fanfiction site. **

**Epilogue**

Albus Dumbledore had a lot to think about. It had been a long few days, that was for sure.

First, he had returned from a false alarm from the Ministry to find Professor Quirrell dead and Harry Potter with the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket. He had taken Harry straight to the hospital wing and Floo-called Nicolas Flamel immediately.

After a long while, they and Nicolas' wife Perenelle, both of which were over six hundred years old, had decided to destroy the fabled stone. Albus had said his last farewell to his dear old friend quite downhearted.

That wasn't the most puzzling thing, however. Shortly after his goodbye to his dear old partner in alchemy, a new face had poked through his fireplace – the face of Molly Weasley, who claimed that her daughter had fallen unconscious, screaming, for no apparent reason. The most interesting thing was that this had happened at the exact same time of Harry's showdown with Quirrell.

After explaining everything that had happened to Harry, Albus now had plenty of time to wonder about the strange friendship between Harry and Ginny. He had been there the night that Harry had seen the Mirror of Erised, and had been quite surprised when he saw the picture of Ginny and Harry with a baby. Also, there was the fishy thing that despite their instantaneous friendship, not one letter had been sent between the two friends, except for identical Christmas presents.

Albus sighed. He had his suspicions about Harry and Ginny, but not enough proof to support these suspicions. He would have to watch them very closely next year, when Ginny came to school.

Harry and Ginny were both as nervous and excited as each other. For the first time in nine months, they would be seeing each other in person! Harry couldn't concentrate as he half-played Exploding Snap with Ron, Hermione looking on at their games.

Finally, after what seemed like years to Harry and Ginny both, the train slowed to a stop. Harry was the first off the train, scanning the mob of people on the platform for his red-headed soul mate. And then –

A blur of red tackled him to the ground. _"Harry!" _a voice both said in his mind and squealed out loud.

She was almost as tall as him now, and her hair was longer and wavier. Harry blinked twice as he took in every detail of her, and together they walked up to Mrs. Weasley.

"We're bringing you back with us, dear," she said forlornly. "You can eat dinner at the Burrow and then go back, okay?"

Harry nodded. _You shouldn't have to go back to the Dursleys at all, _Ginny said.

_I know, _answered Harry. _But I'll see you every day. And you know how we're not allowed to use magic? _

_Yeah, _Ginny said.

_Dudley doesn't know that._


	16. Author's Note!

Hi all

**Hi all! I know you're not supposed to post Author Notes as chapters, but I just want to let you guys all know something. I'm **_**really, really sorry **_**for how long I've left this fic – reality has been really demanding of me lately and the free time I've had for fanfiction has been spent reading it, not writing it! I guess the fact that I finished the first installment has lulled me into the thought that I can leave this series for a long time – I'm really sorry about that. **

**This is partly one of the reasons I have for 'restarting' the series – rather than being a series, it will be one or two stories as a whole, with much longer chapters. 'The Core of Power I: Bonded Souls' will be divided into the first two or three chapters of the fic, and as I write more Harry's school years should take up more and more chapters. It's easier for me to write that way, and I've always liked reading one fic that encompasses Harry's entire schooling rather than a series with one story per year. Hopefully, there will be longer chapters and while this will put a delay on updates, I hope I'll be able to regulate update time. **

**As soon as I finish this A/N I'm going to set to getting this next fic up and running, as well as writing some chapters that you guys haven't seen yet. I hope you'll all stick with me on this one. **

**Regards,**

**SapphireDragon92. **


End file.
